Uncommon Sense
by batistafan
Summary: Can a plan by Triple H aimed at destroying Batista's life and career be stopped before it's too late? And will a hot romance with Batista help a shattered woman regain her life or put her right back in harm's way. Sequel in progress.
1. Uncommon Sense Prologue

Uncommon Sense Prologue

By Batistafan

Rating - NC-17 for violence

Distribution: If you would like to add this story to your site that's fine, just let me know.

Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers. This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not be deemed appropriate for all readers._**

_**I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.**_

_**I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim to them as they are property of their respective companies of license. Thank you kindly for not suing.**_

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"'**_Mother_' is the word for _'God'_ on the lips of a child."**

- Brandon Lee, _The Crow_

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_**Prologue**_

_**Amarillo, Texas**_

**_1993_**

"Nothin'! That's what the hell you are." The woman weaved back and forth on wobbly legs, a half consumed bottle of Jim Beam dangling precariously from her hand. Her damp, stringy hair swung in time with her unsteady sway "You'll never be nothin' neither!"

Thirteen year old Nancy Adams tried, to no avail, to ignore the verbal assault that was being waged by her mother. Even with her back turned it was hard to concentrate on the dishes in front of her, submerged in the hot soapy water, even harder to concentrate on the glass in her hand. Nancy swallowed deeply as she let the wet washcloth slide over the smooth surface of the glass and then dunked it into the rinse water. She was shaking, fearful and unknowing. It was so hard to predict when a tirade would begin, what would set it off and how it would end. Nancy's small, silent prayer flew upward. At least she wanted to believe that her prayer was headed up there. That God would hear it and rise up and defend her, the way King David had described in the book of Psalms. God only knew that prayer was the only thing on earth Nancy had going for her.

"Your fault…" The words coming from her mother's mouth became more garbled with each passing moment as the fetid stench of whiskey purled from her mouth, like an unseen cloud. "You're the reason he left." An anguished groan escaped her mother's lips, the pain of her loss etched in the mass of lines and wrinkles on her face.

Nancy drew a deep, shaky breath and stayed silent knowing that arguing and presenting a defense was only going to make the situation worse. She wouldn't bother to explain that it wasn't _her_ fault that her father was gone…it didn't matter that he had been killed saving Nancy's life.

In the eyes of Diane Adams…_everything_ was her fault. Nothing could ever be said to change that. Nancy pulled her hands out of the water and prayed again for a distraction, something, anything to divert her mother's focus away from her. _'Hey God, Now might be a dandy time for the cops to raid that crack house next door'_ She prayed silently.

Nancy turned to pull a tattered dish towel off of the oven door handle, and was met with the force of a blow that she had not fully anticipated. The bottle that up until now, had been seated loosely in the sweating confines of her mother's palm, connected with a sickening thud to the side of Nancy's wrist. It had been _meant_ for her head.

Barely able to shield her skull from the swinging force of the liquor bottle, Nancy's arm slammed into the side of her face, propelled by the initial impact of the bottle and she fell onto the cold, cracked linoleum floor. Nancy felt the familiar separation of her shoulder from its socket, and with the resounding _'pop'_, an explosion of pain riveted from one side of her body to the other.

"You!" The accusing voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far away, even as Nancy fought to remain conscious. The recognizable metallic flavor swirled slowly into the recesses of her mouth and she knew instantly that it was blood. Trying to spit it out only produced a string of spittle that dribbled from her lips down her cheek and onto the hopelessly filthy floor. Nancy could smell the blood now, and a wave of sickness nearly brought forth her dinner.

The woman standing above her weaved a poetic slur of expletives, though not articulately spoken…they were all recognizable. Nancy had surely heard each of those a dozen other times and despite the beckoning darkness that promised to sooth her, she vowed to stay awake.

She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to shake off the haze of solitude that threatened to overtake her. Nancy rolled her head sideways toward the sound of her mother's voice and was relieved to see the woman, in her drunken stupor, wobbling backward toward the cupboard on the opposite side of the room. Diane slammed, ass first into the cupboards and with an amused snort, slid unceremoniously down onto the floor, completely exhausted.

Nancy's breath came out in labored heaves, causing a stray tendril of chestnut hair to flap up and down each time she did so. She watched her mother's head loll back and forth as if somehow the cervical spine had been removed and she had been left with nothing to support it. If Nancy hadn't been in so much pain…she honestly might have laughed. The sharp bark of a snore startled Nancy and the soft plunk of the half-full, surprisingly unbroken, Jim Beam bottle sliding from her grasp to the floor was evidence that Diane had drifted off to sleep.

Nancy pulled herself up with her good arm, by grasping a cabinet door knob and hefting her weight upward. Pain blazed through her like a lightening bolt, as even mere movement jarred the injured arm and she resisted the urge to scream. She blew out a frustrated puff of air and gritting her teeth, she managed to stand to her full height.

Nausea threatened to overwhelm her as she glanced downward, noting that her arm hung at a fiercely odd angle. Dislocation was a familiar friend to Nancy, having happened to her twice before…each time brought on by the catalyst that was her own mother, and surely aided by the alcohol that had become Diane's constant companion.

A wall of cold air blasted into her face as Nancy stepped out onto the rickety wooden steps at the front of her trailer. For a split second she thought about going back in for her coat, but decided that she probably couldn't get it on anyhow. Instead, she decided that she had better come up with _another_ convincing injury story. Bracing herself against the pain and the cold wind she kicked the door shut behind her and set out to walk the distance to the county hospital.

**_Monday Night 2005 – 12 Years Later_**

The sewing machine groaned in protest as the faulty zipper foot spun loose causing the needle to catch on the plate below. The needle bent sideways sinking its tip nearly a quarter of an inch into Nancy's index finger. She yanked her finger back suddenly, muttering an oath.

"Everytime!" She hissed. "Stupid machine…" Snatching up the spent zipper foot, she flung it without remorse into the wastebasket, followed by the bent needle. Nancy put the tip of her finger in her mouth to stifle the small trickle of blood as she dug through her bag for a band-aid. She ignored the snicker from her sewing partner Max, secured the band-aid onto her injured finger and kneaded the ever persistent muscle ache in the back of her neck.

Desperately frustrated, Nancy decided a short break was in order for her, and a cup of coffee was beginning to sound mighty fine. She pulled the creamy, Asian silk fabric from the machine and folded it over the back of a chair, checking to make sure that she hadn't tainted it with the crimson evidence of her sewing debacle. After noting that the silk was fortunately unblemished, Nancy switched the sewing machine off and stalked toward the doorway…coffee bound.

A grunt from Max served as a wordless request for a cup with cream, no sugar. They had only worked together for several months in their current positions, but had worked as a team for the same design firm for a full two years, and so she had learned to interpret nearly full sentences from Max's various bodily noises. Nancy pushed the metal door open and stepped out into the hallway. The heavy door swung soundlessly shut and the sign on it, printed in red, bore the ever familiar **_RAW_** logo, and below it inscribed in black lettering, was the word **_Wardrobe_.**


	2. Chapter 1

Uncommon Sense Chapter 1

By Batistafan

Rating - NC-17 for violence

Distribution: If you would like to add this story to your site that's fine, just let me know.

Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers. This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not be deemed appropriate for all readers._**

_**I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.**_

_**I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim to them as they are property of their respective companies of license. Thank you kindly for not suing.**_

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**Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. **

**-Thomas A. Edison,US inventor (1847 - 1931)**

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Walkie-Talkie in hand, Nancy strode down the long hallway, weaving in and out of the throng of Wrestlers, RAW staffers and arena attendants, making her way through the congestion with nothing on her mind but acquiring a cup of coffee strong enough to melt a spoon. She responded in kind to the occasional accolade thrown her direction by a Diva referring to the swimsuits she had designed and sewn for the '_Viva Las Divas'_ photo shoot the previous week. She smiled and returned the friendly chatter but never once broke her stride.

"Hey, about that silk skirt…" a very rushed but patient Stacy Keibler caught up with Nancy and fell in step beside her. "You think maybe you'll have it for me tonight? I know I got it to you sort of late." She flashed Nancy a weak smile. "Pleeeze."

"It's a hand stitch job….literally." Nancy held up her injured, band-aid covered finger "I can have it for you tomorrow at best."

"Sounds good" Stacy smiled and headed off in the other direction.

The refreshment table in her sights, Nancy picked up her pace. The soft static of the walkie-talkie crackled, and she adjusted the squelch, pulled it up to her ear and listened.

"Nancy, what's your twenty?" She rolled her eyes at the sound of Max's voice. He insisted on speaking as if they were two secret agents staking out a federal suspect. It gave him a sense of importance she surmised, and that was probably why he did it all of the time.

Knowing that in requesting her 'Twenty' that he had been asking where she was…Nancy decided to play clever. "What's my what? " She snickered.

"FYI…" Max said his voice barely more than a panicked whisper. "Bischoff was in here, looking for that shirt he left for you last week." She could sense the tension in Max's voice.

Nancy listened as she stood in line behind a sound-man, waiting for her turn with the coffee. "Wait a minute…that shirt's on the rack…it's finished." She furrowed her brow and rolled her hands, gesturing as she spoke. "It's got a grey disposable garment bag over it…last Monday's date is on it and his initials are below the date"

"Noooo, it's not." Max informed his voice laced with alarm, as he dragged out the word 'No' as if to drive his point home. "Uh…wait a second…I know what happened." He said hesitantly.

Nancy was sure that if she could have seen his face it would be ashen. She could imagine him hiding behind the ironing board at this very minute. "Max!" She barked in frustration. "What did you do?" She glared at the walkie-talkie, as if it were the offending party.

"I think…that when I let the laundry dude in here to get the stuff to take to the cleaners…"

She didn't even let him finish, knowing already that the shirt had somehow been swept up in the laundering. "Max…" She ground out in frustration.

"Don't get your blood pressure up!" He said defending his error "It'll be in Dallas for RAW next week…it's not _lost_…we _know_ where it is." He said hopefully in an attempt to avert her panic.

"Next week is not _tonight_!" She blurted enunciating each word carefully as if she were talking to a child. The static crackled and the walkie-talkie whined, forcing her to adjust the squelch again.

"You're right…he is looking for you tonight…and he is _pretty_ pissed. In that special kind of 'Bischoff-pissed-off' way." Max stammered. "Can I still have that coffee?"

Deciding that trying to respond with any sense of calm was distinctly impossible, she jammed the knob all the way to the left turning the walkie-talkie off. Nancy snatched two Styrofoam cups from the stack of paper products lined up like obedient soldiers, and whipped the brim of the first under the coffee well's nozzle. Steam rose in tempting swirls above the line of dark liquid as she filled each cup in turn, the smell was intoxicating and temporarily took her mind off of the fact that Eric Bischoff's shirt was missing-in-action.

Both lidded cups in hand, with the walkie-talkie tucked awkwardly beneath her chin, Nancy proceeded back down the hall toward the wardrobe room, hoping against hope that she could get back there and find a suitable shirt for Eric Bischoff before he managed to find _her_. Trying to keep the walkie-talkie braced under her chin was forcing her head to tilt downward and hopelessly obstructing her full view of what was in front of her. Rounding the next bend in the hallway, unable to see more than a foot or two, she found herself slamming into Christy Hemme, who was also not looking, but instead hanging adoringly on the arm of the 'World's Heavyweight Champion', Dave Batista.

The two women collided. Both cups tipped forward upon impact, lids popping off…and both cups managed to spill every last ounce of their contents directly onto the front of Christy's powder-blue, lace cami-top, as well as Nancy's white button-up blouse. The walkie-talkie fell in turn, clattering to the floor in the middle of a coffee puddle. Christy's cry of surprise resounded, as her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfectly round little 'O'.

A pregnant pause ensued, and Nancy suddenly felt very out of place. More than the stain, it was the heat of the beverages that worried Nancy, and she used her hands in an awkward attempt to wipe the rivulets of coffee from the Diva's perfectly tanned pair of bare legs. Christy stepped back apparently disgusted with the whole incident. Her face was screwed into a scowl and a huff of frustration escaped her lips.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry, Christy." Nancy looked at the front of her own white shirt which had clearly been the brunt of a great deal of the backsplash.

Christy closed her eyes, shook her head, and after pursing her full lips together, let them come open, making a tiny little popping noise. Her lips then formed a pout, and Nancy waited, half expecting the Diva to stomp her foot and flounce off down the hallway.

"Not a problem…" Christy said straining to be calm, her irritancy apparent in the tone of her voice. "I'll just change clothes…**_again_**." She never even raised her voice, didn't have to, the low and menacing pitch was scathing in and of itself.

Nancy watched as Christy turned and spoke to Dave Batista. "Could you excuse me? I'll just be a minute." She shot a frosty glare over her shoulder at Nancy and stalked off down the hall somehow still managing to look elegant and glamorous even with coffee dripping down her body.

Dave Batista watched the whole scene unfold in front of him, narrowly able to suppress the grin that played at his lips. It had been an accident, could have happened to anyone of a dozen people in the hall, but it had happened to Christy. He knew she would be annoyed for a good portion of their date. Pushing his Dolce sunglasses up onto his brow ridge, he bent over to retrieve the fallen walkie-talkie. He pulled a handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket and wiped the receiver, but before he could hand it back to the woman, Eric Bischoff came storming around the corner, hell bent for leather, his angry gaze locked like a heat seeking missile, directly on…_her_.

"Well…glad you could show up tonight." The sarcasm spilled out of his mouth like acid. "Where the hell is my shirt?" He braced one hand on his hip waiting for the answer.

Nancy turned around to fully face him. "Mr. Bischoff," She began, lacing her fingers together nervously, "I thought that we had put it on the rack. I-I mean it's finished and everything, but what happened was…"

He cut her off with a flourish of his hand. "Looks like I'm not the only one who needs a different shirt." He glared down at the dark spatter on the front of Nancy's white button-up blouse. She could have been mistaken but she thought that perhaps his stare remained there a bit too long.

"Tell you what," Eric said. "I'm on in the ring in ten minutes…so if I don't have a dark gray oxford, similar to the one I left for you to alter **_last_** week, in my office in two minutes…then you're fired." He cast a questioning look at Batista and then turned to walk away. "Oh and by the way…" He said over his shoulder. "Go change your shirt, you look like hell." He held two fingers of his left hand up and silently mouthed the word 'two'.

Nancy's shoulders slumped in disappointment. She let out a sigh of irritation and faced Dave Batista, who was holding her walkie-talkie with a humorous grin still tugging gently at the corners of his mouth. His veiled amusement annoyed her.

"You probably need this." Batista said holding the walkie-talkie forward. Strangely he felt a tiny bit sorry for the woman in front of him, but something about the look in her eyes when she snatched the walkie-talkie out of his hand made him think differently.

"Yeah, thanks." She snapped succinctly, stomping past him. She had retreated so quickly she never noticed the amused grin that suddenly split into an ear to ear smile as he tapped his sunglasses back down into place on the bridge of his nose, nor did she notice the admiration that flashed across his face as he contemplated the spicy encounter. Strangely, as he turned on his heel to find Christy, he realized he wasn't nearly as eager to go to dinner with her as he had been only minutes earlier. And as enthusiastic as Dave was to find out how this confrontation between the unknown woman and Bischoff played out, he had made a promise to show Christy Hemme the Las Vegas sights and whether he wanted to or not, a promise was a promise. He stuffed the coffee covered hankie in his pant pocket and went off to find her.

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I adore feedback and criticism if you have it and often write back please feel free to leave it at my mailbox or message me on the board if Juanita doesn't mind. 


	3. Chapter 2

Uncommon Sense Chapter 2

By Batistafan

Rating - NC-17 for violence

Distribution: If you would like to add this story to your site that's fine, just let me know.

Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers. This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not be deemed appropriate for all readers._**

_**I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.**_

_**I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim to them as they are property of their respective companies of license. Thank you kindly for not suing.**_

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"Competence, like truth, beauty and contact lenses, is in the eye of the beholder."

**Laurence J. Peter**, _The Peter Principle (1969), chapter 1_  
_US educator & writer (1919 - 1988)_

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The door of the wardrobe room swung open and Max Hadaway's head snapped up in surprise to behold a very irritated, somewhat incensed Nancy Adams.

"I see you brought my coffee." He said pointing to the stain on her blouse, with a snicker.

Nancy shot him a dark look. "Very funny…take it off." She pointed to the shirt that Max was wearing and when he didn't appear to understand, she insisted. "Off, Off! Take off the shirt!" She ignored his cries of protest and began to undo the buttons on the front of his smoky grey dress shirt.

"What…wha.." Max frowned and pulled away clutching at the half buttoned shirt as if protecting his virtue. "Why do I have to give you my shirt?…It won't fit you!" He argued backing up as she advanced toward him.

"It's not for _me_, Max. It's for Bischoff!" Exasperated by his obvious attempt at humor, Nancy moved around to the other side of the table closer to Max who was trying to put distance between her and himself.

"It won't fit him either!" Max whined reasoning that he was far fatter than Eric Bischoff. He told of how embarrassed he would be to let the meaty rolls around his abdomen be seen. He began to dodge her and scooted quickly away, putting the table between the two of them.

Nancy clenched her jaw, and darted around the table. "Not my problem." She smirked, tilting her head and grabbing the front of his shirt. "You lost Bischoff's shirt…Bischoff _needs_ a shirt." He continued to fight her, slapping at her hands. "Take off the shirt!" She yelled, fighting his waving arms.

Startled by her assertiveness and slightly turned on by her aggressive attitude, he allowed a smile to cross his face. "All you had to do was ask." He held his arms out to his sides in blissful acquiescence.

"Smart ass…" Nancy quipped, unfastening the last of the buttons and allowing Max to wriggle out of the shirt.

Max scowled at her from across the room as she flung the shirt across the ironing board to give it a quick press. "You're awfully forceful when you want something. But you know…you're kind of sexy when you're mad." He watched as she rolled her eyes in near exasperation. "You know the whole hooded eyes and tight lipped rage thing suits you." He motioned with his hands in mock claws up by his face.

She huffed a laugh. "I have three words for you…" She dragged the shirt off of the ironing board and slipped it onto a padded hanger "Martha Stewart Sweatshop." She buttoned the top three buttons and headed for the door. "Because, Max, if we blow this gig, then that's gonna be the only job we can get." She winked and plastered on her best pageant style smile.

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Racing down the hall, eyes up, making sure she didn't have another head-on collision Nancy scanned the temporary signs that marked the doors, until she found the one that read _'Eric Bischoff General Manager'_. She stopped outside of the door and steadied her breathing, slightly miffed that she hadn't had the time to change her own shirt, but still relieved that she had a suitable shirt for Eric Bischoff.

Nancy lifted her hand up to knock, but the door flew open before her knuckles even made contact with it. Eric glowered as he snatched the shirt out of her hand.

"I know it's a little big." Nancy stammered, her heart beating wildly. "I'm sorry."

He looked the shirt over before making eye contact with her. "Well at least I have something." He stepped back into his office, without another word and slammed the door shut behind him. Nancy barely had enough time to hop backward across the threshold to keep the door from hitting her in the face.

She turned around to find herself under the condescending glare of Triple H. He smirked and chuckled lightly, walking past her into the office without knocking.

"Move Honey, make way for the champ." Ric Flair said emulating Hunter's demeanor as he followed him into the office, slamming the door a second time.

"Not the champ anymore..." Nancy chided under her breath and shot her middle finger up toward the closed door. She was just about to leave when she caught part of the angry chatter that was coming from the inside of the office. She knew she probably shouldn't be listening, but she had never been one to resist a tasty morsel of gossip.

"…People are gonna know, Eric!" She was able to make out Triple H's deep baritone. "Just do it! Or I swear everyone's gonna know…" His voice faded out, but she could hear Ric Flair's voice loud and clear along with Bischoff's pleading chatter.

"Trust me…You don't wanna mess with the champ! You hear me? He'll do what he's saying…you know it and I know it." Even though she was half tempted to think that the two of them were cutting a promo in front of some hidden camera, she could tell that they were both moving toward the door by the rise in the volume of Ric's voice.

She scampered backward and shuffled around the corner, knowing that she shouldn't have eavesdropped on the conversation, but even more than that, she was a little scared of what Triple H would do if he knew she had heard even part of what he had said, especially if it wasn't some sort of scripted conversation. Nonchalantly, Nancy made her way down the hall and slipped into the Diva's Locker room, closing the door quickly behind her, with just seconds to spare.

Nancy turned around searching for an excuse for being in the locker room instead of back in _Wardrobe_…just in case someone asked. It was Maria and her ever present problems with her bust-line not wanting to stay in her shirts that would prove to save the day. "Let me help you, Maria" Nancy laughed whipping out her _'Sewing Emergency Kit'_

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The candles flickered, casting a golden glow that caused Christy's red tresses to shimmer like crimson glass.

"I'm glad we decided to come here for dinner." She formed her ever famous pout.

"You're not listening to me, Dave" Christy said softly, reaching across the table to grasp his strong hand.

He raised his head and forced a smile. "Hmmm?" he noted her pout. "Oh, sorry." Dave sighed and leaned forward to brush her stray hair back into place, doing it more because the out of place, freshly dyed hair annoyed him, than because he wanted to touch her.

"Even though we _were_ late" Christy drew her hands back and clasped them together resting her chin on top of them. "No thanks to Miss Graceful back there." She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she made reference to the coffee incident for the hundredth time since leaving the arena. "I swear, I don't know how I'm _ever_ gonna get that stain out." She screwed her pretty face up into a scowl and shook her head in obvious consternation.

"You won a quarter million dollars, buy a new shirt." He grumbled in irritation, perturbed that she couldn't just drop it. "It was an accident, accidents happen." He spoke calmly, as he leaned back in his chair. "Coulda been anybody…it just happened to be you…big deal."

Christy narrowed her eyes and tightened her lips. "It **_is_** a big deal, **_Dave_**." She leaned forward. "If that coffee had been any hotter, we'd be having this discussion in the burn unit…over stale turkey and hospital Jello!" She hissed.

Dave Batista smirked and let out a chuckle. "_Now_ you're just being dramatic" He rolled his eyes again.

She pouted and bobbed her head slightly. "Well maybe I am, but it hurt…and it ruined my clothes" She said tapping her finger on the table. "_And_." She added for good measure. "She made us late."

He sighed as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "Could we just drop it?" He said in a low voice. "You're alive and kicking, you look great…" He pointed to her tightly fitting, low cut dress. "You don't seem to be any worse for the wear." He reasoned, trying to evade the continual drone of rehashing the incident.

"Okay…" She said lifting her eyebrows and smiling. "Besides I would much rather talk about where you're gonna check us in to stay tonight."

He didn't have the heart to say that he didn't feel like spending the night together. Hell, his change of heart confused even him. Earlier he had wanted what Christy had to offer. She was gorgeous and unabashedly attracted to him, why couldn't he concentrate on her, his time with her…why couldn't he get excited about what undoubtedly would be offered up to him, by her the minute they left the restaurant? He stared past Christy out of the window into the night…that was Las Vegas City life and all he wanted to do was pay the bill and run like hell.


	4. Chapter 3

Uncommon Sense Chapter 3

By Batistafan

Rating - NC-17 for violence

Distribution: If you would like to add this story to your site that's fine, just let me know.

Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers. This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not be deemed appropriate for all readers._**

_**I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.**_

_**I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim to them as they are property of their respective companies of license. Thank you kindly for not suing.**_

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"Where humor is concerned there are no standards - no one can say what is good or bad, although you can be sure that everyone will."

**John Kenneth Galbraith**  
_US (Canadian-born) administrator & economist (1908 - 2006)_

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The sky broke open, flooding the dry Arizona ground with much needed rain and gave Nancy and the rest of the WWE RAW _Wardrobe_ and make-up team another reason to complain. As if they didn't have one already. On top of being horribly cramped inside of the bus, someone on the make-up team had left behind an entire cart of supplies, for which a team member had been forced to rent a car and drive halfway back to retrieve.

The bus, at one time comfortable and on-time, had somehow snapped a driveshaft, sending the useless hunk of metal flying backward into the front of a Toyota full of under-aged, college kids. Luckily no one had been hurt, but office staff and insurance underwriters had to be called, even as the wardrobe and make-up teams paced back and forth outside of the bus, on the side of the 2 lane highway in 100 plus, degree heat.

After almost five hours of waiting, another bus arrived from a company contracted by various different sports teams, as well as the WWE when an emergency arose. All of the staff had climbed aboard and shuffled, pressed and squeezed equipment and bodies into every conceivable space on the bus.

"I'm buying a damned van!" Max spat as he 'harrumphed' and huffed and puffed, slamming his wadded jacket down onto his lap. "I'm buying a damned van, and I'm putting you and me and all our shit on it…and to _hell_ with all these other assholes." He wiped at the sweat that began to form on his upper lip. "I'm tired of tryin' to squish my fat ass on the same bus with 'Tammy Faye Baker Maker' over here." He hitched his thumb over his shoulder to indicate his arch enemy, the head make-up artist. Max was rewarded with a glare and the finger from the equally pissed off make-up artist.

Nancy patted his shoulder as she shuffled into the seat next to him, trying to think of anything but the heat that was presently closing in on them like a fog. "A little air-conditioning, please." She said loudly enough for the driver to hear. After peeking over the seat in front of her she could see that the flustered driver was already busy fiddling with the controls above his head. The bus rumbled to life and the air-conditioner seemed to be working, but then it screamed a sharp, high-pitched mechanical wail and sputtered to a complete halt.

"Oh Hell." Max leaned forward until his forehead hit the seat in front of him. He pulled his head back and let it slam into the seat two more times. He then pretended to cry and pitched sideways as if to lay his head in Nancy's lap.

Nancy laughed and ruffled his hair. "Poor baby." She could certainly empathize with Max and she was dealing with the whole predicament surprisingly better than she thought she would. All those on the bus agreed to slap open the windows and free-ball it down the highway, not much else was left to do considering that they had another two hours to drive. WWE - RAW had a house show starting in two hours and those on the bus were now in a time zone that was an hour behind. They would surely make it, but only if no more adversity chose to strike.

Now with the windows open and rain ripping through the curtain of the sky like tiny liquid daggers, the bus rumbled down the road. Max and Nancy made the best of it by leaning closer to the window and letting the rain soak their faces. The two of them began to tell jokes and talk about their days as fledgling seamstress and sewers for interior design venues, recounting the good, the bad and the ugly.

The bus finally rattled to a stop in the back of the arena, but the rain was not stopping. This meant that every last stitch of equipment had to be unloaded in a downpour. Max had taken to cursing up a storm as he dragged his share of sewing machines, sergers, ironing boards, and cases of different incidentals, into the arena. Nancy was on one end of a large trunk, containing fabric and Max was on the other spewing four letter words, when, without warning, his foot hit a wet spot on the highly polished arena floor. His leg went out from underneath him, causing his body to pitch forward. Max fell. face first onto the top of the heavy trunk.

Nothing could have prepared Max for the fall, and he slid off of the side of the trunk coming to rest on his back in the middle of the floor.

Nancy was too overtaken by laughter to even render him aid. She simply sat back on her haunches, next to the trunk, with her face in her hands and guffawed.

"Well…" remarked Vicki, the head make-up artist, a mid thirties woman with a slender build and black spiky hair, and without a doubt Max's arch nemesis. "I guess if you don't need my skin care advice…" She tapped her purse against her perfectly flat belly. "Maybe you'll take my advice about losing some weight." Vicki smirked and tossed a kleenex onto Max's chest. "Be sure and wipe up that water before someone else slips in it." And with a wink and a grin she was gone.

Max was fuming as he turned awkwardly from his back to his side, trying to get a better look at Nancy. "You gonna let her get away with talking to me like that?" He reached forward to take Nancy's outstretched hand.

A giggle still bubbling up from her throat, she grasped Max's hand in an effort to help him stand. "I'll get her next time…besides…if I didn't know you better; I'd think you kinda liked it." She groaned and pulled him up with all her might and began to brush his back off.

"Yeah, well, you never were a very good body guard anyway." He scowled and stooped over again to drag the trunk.


	5. Chapter 4

Uncommon Sense Chapter 4

By Batistafan

Rating - NC-17 for violence

Distribution: If you would like to add this story to your site that's fine, just let me know.

Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers. This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not be deemed appropriate for all readers._**

_**I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.**_

_**I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim to them as they are property of their respective companies of license. Thank you kindly for not suing.**_

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"It hurts to find out that what you wanted doesn't match what you dreamed it would be."

**Randy K. Milholland**, _Something Positive Comic, 09-07-04_

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Dave Batista sat alone in the dressing room, carefully taping his wrists and two knuckles and cherishing the much needed peace and quiet in his time away from Christy Hemme. Had there not been separate facilities for men and women in the restaurants and shopping malls they had visited in the past two days, he felt certain he would have had to piss with her standing right there. Christy Hemme was beautiful and sensual…just what he should have wanted. Having her on his arm could make any man or woman jealous, but it was a little bit like being attached at the hip to a 110 pound, chattering Pez Doll with boobs. He laughed at the image as it played across the window of his mind. It was the first real laugh, he realized…in weeks.

Dave secured the tape and then bit into the strip with his whiter than white teeth, snapping it off. He tossed the roll carelessly toward his bag, oblivious that it had missed and was currently rolling under a bench and would likely be forgotten. Standing, he began to shake out the muscles of his arms and legs, stretching and warming up for his match tonight with Shelton Benjamin. It was a title match, but a house show, so the title was not scheduled to change hands.

Dave, as well as many of the others on the roster liked the format of house shows much better than that of live taped events and pay-per-views. The atmosphere was much more laid back with noticeably less stress. There was no Eric Bischoff in some of the house shows, no Diva Search Competition events, even if the hopefuls were still bouncing around somewhere in the arena trying to find someone to impress. And then of course, there was the ability to mingle with fans while in the course of a match, which of course was a huge 'No…no' during a live RAW event. There was even more time…he hoped…to get to know the staff. They were the pillar and posts that held up the entity of RAW and sadly they were the most neglected and unknown of all the WWE's employees.

"Dave?" John Cena held open the door slightly as he tried to enter the dressing room, still cleverly managing to block the view of anyone standing in the hallway. "Christy's waitin' on you, man." He then passed and disappeared toward the back of the dressing room, as Dave nodded and grumbled out an obligatory "Thanks."

Dave suppressed a groan of frustration and continued to warm up. He freely let the invasive image of the big-breasted Christy Pez Doll, with a dialogue balloon above its head filled with _'Blah, Blah, Blahs',_ enter into his mind's eye. Something about the image fit her so well that he began to laugh again, first a snicker and then a full belly laugh that could be heard clearly by anyone close enough to the dressing room.

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After managing to heft the trunk and other equally wet supplies into the makeshift '_Wardrobe'_ area, Nancy and Max began working on the numerous requests for repair of clothing malfunctions. This arena had no dedicated room for which to set up the sewing- machines and other equipment, but the arena managers had been kind enough to clear out a hallway close to the administration offices and block it off with black curtains, making a very large makeshift room. They strung extension cords under the curtains into one of the, now vacant for the day, offices, so they could plug in the machines.

The hallway's overhead fluorescents, though stark and glaring, gave adequate light and even though you could hear every event transpiring out in the world of RAW…this was good enough for Nancy and Max. The odd pair had worked in worse places, in tighter quarters with broken machines and missing supplies and had always been able to make due. She and Max began hanging up several of the costumes and rummaging around for the iron so that they could press anything that needed pressing.

"Aha! Here it is, but I need water for steam." Max said reverentially, stumbling over a pile of neatly twisted cords, holding up the iron he had just found as if he'd just unearthed the Holy Grail.

"I'm sure there's a bathroom around here somewhere…I'll get you some." Nancy responded, laying a spool of grey thread on the table beside the sewing machine. She backed out from between the slit in the curtains, but before she could turn around and face forward, she backed directly into someone.

"Still having trouble watching where you're going, I see." The voice was laden with a peevish lilt, and Nancy knew exactly who it was in an instant.

She turned around to face Christy Hemme. Nodding her head slightly as if she knew what to expect, she saluted the Diva in mock sarcasm. "Hi Christy." Nancy said flatly, as she pulled her hand down sharply from the salute and crooked one eyebrow.

Christy didn't find the gesture funny in the slightest as she shifted her slight weight from one foot to the other.

"You know…I finally figured out what it is you _actually_ do here in the WWE." Christy's words were laced with feigned interest, and the almost imperceptible hiss of a lisp from the invisalign braces on her teeth.

Nancy waited without responding knowing that anything she said would only make the situation worse. Christy hated her. It was apparent, and the less friction Nancy caused the better. With Bischoff already gunning for her, it was best if she simply flew under the radar and kept to her own.

"You sew on a button here and there, make a bathing suit now and then, but mostly you just wreak holy-havoc on everyone else's time schedule, hmm?" Christy spat venom with her words, even though her voice was never raised. "I mean…if you're not ruining someone's wardrobe and causing them to be late for after-show engagements, then you're showing up late for house shows and people can't even get their wardrobe fixed."

Nancy bit her lip to stifle an equally scathing retort and let Christy continue on her tirade, she surmised that like a hurricane…once Christy passed it would be at least a little while before disaster struck again.

"Stitch this shit up…" Christy slapped a red button-up shirt against Nancy's chest. "It won't stay buttoned in the front and I'm tired of having to use safety pins to hold it shut."

Nancy didn't bother to tell her that it might help if she would quit buying shirts from the 'Junior's' section of the stores she shopped in, but she kept quiet.

"Just sew it up from the bottom to about the third button down, and I'll just slip it over my head."

Again Nancy stopped just short of explaining that there was no way in hell she was going to get the shirt on over her head without either splitting the new seam or causing the fabric to pucker so badly between her 'new' breasts that it would make her look more tawdry than she usually did.

"That is if you can find the time…between your coffee breaks and banker's hours."

Nancy could detect the slightest hint of an incipient sneer, as Christy spun on her heel, and stalked around the corner. She was left holding the red shirt and masking her fury behind a tight-lipped smile.

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Christy had barely rounded the corner, her heels clicking like mad on the highly polished arena floor, when a large hand snaked out of the shadows and tugged her arm gently, pulling her to within a few feet of him.

"Why do you do that?" Dave Batista asked calmly, smoothly as he pulled Christy to the side of the hallway out of earshot of everyone else.

"Do what?" Her irritation was clearly evident.

"Do _that_…" He said hitching his thumb in the other direction to indicate what had just happened around the corner. "You don't have to be hateful to her." He watched as Christy knitted her brows together.

"Dave, all I did was state the facts." She declared plainly. "If she can't handle someone telling her 'how it is', then maybe she needs to find another job."

"Oh, and no doubt, you're gonna tell her 'how it is', right?" He said furrowing his brows. "Did you ever think that maybe you'd get further with people if you didn't bite everybody's head off whenever you're pissed?"

Christy shrugged his hand off of her arm and scowled. "I had to wear a second rate outfit on our date last week, because of her clumsiness, and now I have to wear a second rate outfit tonight because she can't make it to a show on time!" She gestured angrily with her hands. "Now you tell me what kind of example she's setting for everyone else on the payroll." She studied his expression for a moment unable to put her finger on the meaning of the expression behind his eyes. She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips in perplexity. "Why are you defending her?" Her voice fell from its high pitch of angst to a less threatening, more probing octave.

"I have a match…I better get going." Dave pivoted on his heel to leave, unable to answer her question. To be clearly honest, he had no idea why he was defending the woman…he didn't know her…didn't have any attachments to her. Maybe it was because in the short time since his divorce, he had become all too familiar with the sting of Christy's tongue and between all of the waitresses and bartender's he'd had to over-tip to compensate for her acid-mouth, he felt a certain pity for this woman, too. That must be it.

"Listen…look, I'm sorry…" Christy said, drawing her husky voice back up to the chilling whine he had come to dread. "I'll apologize to her here in a minute if it'll make you feel better, okay?" She softened a bit.

"Don't do anything on my account." Dave said with a huff, drawing his brows together. "Especially if you don't mean it."

"I'll mean it…I was just irritated, that's all." She pulled his arm toward her and looped it around the small of her back, pulling him into an embrace.

"I have to go." Dave said softly, trying to pull back.

"Not until you tell me what you have planned for our time in Puerto Rico this month." She teased and rubbed her finger down the front of his bare chest, still holding his arm against her back with her other arm. He was, by all rights, trapped.

He knew she was referring to the pay-per-view that was fast approaching, but he had already made arrangements with his ex-wife to fly his daughters to the show and spend some much needed time with them afterwards. There would be no room for Christy in those arrangements.

"Uh, that's something we need to talk about." Dave saw no sense in putting it off until after the show. "I spoke with my ex today and made plans to have my girls for five days, straight through the pay-per-view and Raw. They fly back home on Thursday, of that week."

"_So_, we'll just have to sneak off in the night for a little rendezvous." Christy cooed, smiling and rocking back and forth slowly in his lethargic embrace.

Dave wondered if she would fall flat on the floor if he suddenly let go, and then the image of the Christy Pez doing a backward Nestea Plunge interloped into his thoughts and he found himself smiling.

"Not exactly…" He responded, straightened up completely and disentangled himself as politely as possibly from her grasp. "I can't have you there with my daughters. I made an agreement with my ex that I wouldn't expose them to anyone right now…they're not ready, yet."

"Well, we gotta do what's best for the kiddies, right?" Something about the way she said those words made her seem detached and unloving, threatening even…in a way that only a loving parent would be able to sense.

"I have that match…" He said biting and then releasing his bottom lip. He turned and walked away from her without another word, leaving a very curious and slightly irked Diva in his wake.


	6. Chapter 5

Uncommon Sense Chapter 5

By Batistafan

Rating - NC-17 for violence

Distribution: If you would like to add this story to your site that's fine, just let me know.

Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers. This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not be deemed appropriate for all readers._**

_**I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.**_

_**I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim to them as they are property of their respective companies of license. Thank you kindly for not suing.**_

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"Never explain--your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe you anyway."

**Elbert Hubbard**  
_US author (1856 - 1915)_

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"Hurricane Christy has hit landfall…" Max said giving Nancy a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as they both stood watching The Diva stomp off down the hallway.

"You know…those were my sentiments exactly." Nancy was surprised how much she and Max could think alike. She turned and flung the curtain out of her way as she ducked back into the make-shift wardrobe area. "I can't figure out why she hates me so badly…all I did was bump into her and I got just as much coffee on myself as I did on her." Nancy tossed the shirt onto the table by the sewing machine. "And even _that_ was an accident…I never meant for it to happen." She flopped down into a chair and propped her feet up on one of the trunks. "She wasn't exactly paying attention to where she was going either." Nancy's irritation was easily noticeable by the frown on her face and the slight angry hitch in her voice, punctuated by the sharp crossing of her arms over her chest.

"I know…I know." Max sympathized with her. He had heard the entire one-sided attack on his friend in the hall just seconds ago, from behind the curtain where he had been eavesdropping. The wheels in Max's head began to twirl but he said nothing. Max had considered Christy Hemme a waste of human skin, even before she had won the coveted Quarter-Million Dollar Competition, and watching her treat his closest friend badly was giving him a sour taste in his mouth. Christy Hemme didn't know it yet, but she had just made herself an enemy. And if Nancy didn't feel the need to seek retribution, then Max would do it for her.

"How in the world am I supposed to expect you to protect me from the witch in the make-up department, if you won't even nut up to a teensy, little thing like that witless, quarter-million dollar, walking bulimia billboard? I just guess I'm gonna have to fire you and get myself another bodyguard." He laughed when she shot him a dark glare. "Nancy, seriously…I really, truly believe if you would just say something to her, when she's reaming you…she'll stop."

Nancy just shrugged in contemplation and remained in her seat.

Max lifted both of the massive pin-cushions off of the supply table. Each was shaped like round pillows with weighted bottoms and filled to the brim with sewing pins. Max lifted one eyebrow sharply and stood on tiptoes to mimic someone wearing high-heels, taking a few steps forward with his hips shaking back and forth. He then raised both pincushions up to his chest and began to impersonate Christy Hemme.

"Look at my breasts, Batista…" He brought his voice up to a high pitch, very near that of woman's. "Do you wanna touch 'em?" Max began to sashay left and right. "I may treat everyone like shit, but I sure look good while I'm doing it…" He twirled around and shook his generous derriere. "I'd like to thank all the little people…whose backs I stepped on to get to the top…"

Nancy began to grin and snicker as she watched Max, barely noticing the massive shoulders edging between the curtains as John Cena stepped inside the wardrobe area. Max was still doing his dead-on impression of Christy and was so absorbed with nailing it that he didn't notice Nancy's wide-eyed stare, or the subtle shake of her head, warning him to cease. Cena had come up behind Max and was nodding his head, apparently amused by the comedy act.

"Shave your legs and you'd be a dead ringer." John said, his deep voice, a low pleasant rumble. The comment caught Max off-guard, and he whipped around so quickly that he dropped one of the pin cushions on the floor, while mishandling the other, clamping it between his forearm and stomach, managing to jab several of the pins at an odd angle through the side of the cushion and into his tummy. The sharp stab of the tiny pins caused him to gasp and jerk making his belly jiggle out of reflex. That action, in turn, forced the huge, snaked up, tangle of piping string that he had been using for hair, to fall down the front of his face and land on the floor in a hopeless pile at his feet. The entire scenario was akin to something out of a Three Stooges movie, only with one helplessly, ham-fisted buffoon, able to do the job of all three.

Nancy immediately looked down at her shoes to avert the raucous laughter that was bubbling up in her throat, threatening to burst forth. She then turned her head away to prevent anyone from seeing her blushing embarrassment, and the slight tears of mirth forming at the corners of her eyes from the exertion of holding it all in. As hilarious as it all appeared to be, Nancy hoped that John Cena wasn't good friends with Christy, or else she was destined never to have resolution with the rancor that the Diva had against her. Surely he would go straight to Dave Batista and tell him what he had seen and heard, and then Christy would know in mere minutes.

Max coughed, to clear his throat and then tried to disguise a grimace of pain as he extracted the one pincushion from his ample belly. He kicked the tangle of piping sideways, out of his path and fumbled for the other pincushion that had rolled across the floor, finally placing them both gracelessly on the table and then mumbling a short, indecipherable apology.

All the while, Nancy noticed that John Cena seemed to be watching Max's conundrum with perplexed hilarity. A slight smile wrenched at his lips, despite the exhausted look in his eye. He walked the distance of the wardrobe area to where Nancy sat and extended his hand in salutation.

"I hear that you do some work on the side…design work for some of the Divas." He confirmed.

"I do…You in the market for a bathing suit too?" Nancy asked in jest, smiling.

John Cena grinned "Naw, Not today…" He pulled a piece of paper and a soft cloth wad out of his pocket. "I was wondering if you could do something for me." His voice floated out with a slight catch in it as he spoke and his eyes, though clear and bright, seemed cheerless. "I have a friend, from my old neighborhood and he passed away recently." He clenched his jaw and swallowed. "I'd like to do some sort of tribute to his life. If I showed you something, do you think you could do something special with it for me?"

John pulled open the wad of cloth which was nothing more than a handkerchief covered with words and symbols. It looked like the artistic work of a couple of pre-teens, faded and practically indistinct, the hankie looked as if it had been through countless years of being handled and passed back and forth. There were signatures on it and different cartoon-like figures. It was almost like a token of sorts passed from person to person with all of the different facets of each brother's personality immortalized forever on fabric.

Nancy noticed that John Cena was reluctant to hand over the handkerchief completely. It must have had great meaning to him. "I can sure try." She said kindly. "Do you have an idea of what you'd like?"

Nodding, wordlessly, he handed her the piece of paper. He didn't seem to be able to speak at the moment.

"Max?" her gaze met with his, in an unspoken question and he acknowledged her with a nod, holding up Christy's red shirt with a questioning look. Nancy simply nodded giving him silent consent to sew up the front of the shirt, knowing that he had heard Christy's demand for exactly what she wanted, and he would have it ready for 'Her Highness' so she could wear it for next week's RAW.

"Come on…I'll buy you a cup of coffee and we can work up something for you." She followed him out of the Wardrobe area toward the table full of complimentary beverages, leaving Max behind.

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Max smiled wickedly once Nancy was out of sight, glaring at the shirt in his hands as if it were Christy herself.

He immediately strung the sewing machine with the appropriate shade of red thread. Instead of closing the shirt and re-sewing it shut, straight along the stitch-line, which would turn the expensive Egyptian cotton button up into a mock button-up, tailor made for a Diva, Max opened the shirt to the button hole side and stitched straight down the line. This didn't sew the shirt shut, but instead would make it appear, at first glance as though it had been. He then laid several strips of fusible webbing, or 'no sew' tape, on the button side of the lapels.

Max looked nervously toward the entrance flap of the curtains, several times, knowing that he had to work quickly or else he ran the risk of being caught. He buttoned the shirt shut, lining up the lapels perfectly over the 'no sew' tape, pinned it together tightly and then laid the hot iron, sans steam, on the lapels and pressed them. This caused the tape to fuse and create the semi-permanent bond needed to make the shirt appear as if it had been stitched and would hold tight. The sad fact was, that it would not hold…sure, it would slip over Christy's head, but likely, a good jerk or a bold move, like those common to Christy Hemme, could cause her shirt to pop open. Max's only prayer was that the shirt would burst open while she was in the ring.

Max chortled devilishly…as he took a small pair of manicuring scissors and snipped the threads of the buttons, until little more than a double strand held each in place. He grinned at his handiwork, removing the pins and then cleaning off the stray threads, he then pressed the shirt like a professional. Slipping a hanger inside of it, Max held the shirt high up in the air. "And _that_…ladies and gentleman…is how you fix someone's '**_little red wagon_**'" He said with an evil glare. Nancy might not have been willing to make Christy pay for her deeds. But there was no way that he could live with himself if he stood by and let someone stomp all over his friend.


	7. Chapter 6

Uncommon Sense Chapter 6

By Batistafan

Rating - NC-17 for violence

Distribution: If you would like to add this story to your site that's fine, just let me know.

Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers. This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not be deemed appropriate for all readers._**

_**I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.**_

_**I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim to them as they are property of their respective companies of license. Thank you kindly for not suing.**_

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"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."

**Carl Jung**  
_Swiss psychologist (1875 - 1961)_

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The Animal's entrance music was cued, and the adrenaline rush coursing through Dave Batista's veins as he stepped out into the small arena was no less exhilarating than if he'd been in Madison Square Garden in front of fifty-thousand people, instead of two-thousand as he was tonight. That's how it always happened…that tremble that thrummed through his body, the increase in his heart beat, the primal growl that rose from somewhere deep in his conflicted soul. The knowledge that he could destroy anything in his path if that was what he wanted. It never failed him. It gave him strength, in fact…something about the whole dynamic of what he chosen to do…given up a normal life for.

For him it wasn't just the violence, never _just_ the violence…it was the thought of giving some part of himself to the ones who pleaded for it, paid for it…hitchhiked halfway across the country after selling their cars for tickets, just to have it. Somehow the way the fans felt defined him, for who he was and yet drove him to what he had not thought he could become. Their roars and chants stayed in his ears for sometimes hours after he had left the venue…until he could silence the animal inside…the beast that thrashed at his soul.

Their praise was acceptance in its highest form and even when they were against him…they were in essence, for him…it was odd how that particular puzzle played out…they could love him or they could hate him, but he still managed to effect a reaction from them. And so as the pyros began to discharge in succession and he began his ceremonious entry, he realized, that without _him_, the fans would surely find another villain to curse, another hero to rally behind, but without _them_, he was just Dave Bautista, father of two...single again…looking for a life.

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Nancy tossed the empty paper cup in the trash and bade John Cena farewell, shaking his hand and giving a tentative date for the completion of his project. She felt a considerable sadness for John, as she remembered her own sordid childhood and the friends that she had left behind after a myriad of moves and innumerable treks across the country. Almost like a well worn piece of luggage, Nancy had borne the scrapes and rips of her mother's drunken spontaneity. There had been few true friends and even fewer that had cared to try to track her forwarding addresses down. The one untainted friendship Nancy had was the one she shared with Max. It was a relatively new friendship, purely platonic and utterly faultless. It was almost too good to be true and a source of constant fret for Nancy, filling her mind with images of the proverbial 'Other Shoe' dropping.

On her way back to wardrobe, Nancy passed the ramp, leading out to the ring, and in so doing, she caught a glimpse of the very well-developed back half of Dave Batista. There was something about the way he rolled his massive shoulders and stretched his broad neck from side to side that held her attention. Was he really that big? The last time she had seen him was when he'd given back her walkie-talkie and even then he had been huge, draped in an expensive suit.

Nancy watched as he jumped up and down in anticipation and she couldn't help but notice that his body was very literally, a finely tuned machine. In his late thirties, he was in better shape than most men in their twenties. She surmised that if there was any fat on his lean, powerful frame it was probably less than 2 percent. Dave Batista reeked of nimble prowess and the sight of his vascularity, coupled with his sheer size and apparent strength made her feel very small indeed.

Yes, he really _was_ that big, and what she was doing…watching him without his knowing…was a little like being a 'Peeping Tom'.

Nancy saw him disappear through the curtain just past the 'Gorilla Position' into the arena as his music began, and her trenchant curiosity compelled her to follow. She had not gone exactly the same way he had, but through a different door, where she could see what it was that engrossed her.

By the time Nancy had found her way through the dark labyrinth of halls and out into the upper tier of the arena where she could view the match, the two men were entangled in a dangerous embrace. Nancy had really never seen a full match before, barely even part of one on a monitor back stage. Mostly she was just inundated with wardrobe malfunctions and design requests that conspired to keep her holed up in her dungeon, and so observing the real thing from her vantage point was supremely fascinating.

Nancy had come through a door on the top tier and was now leaning against the rail, casually watching as Dave Batista sent Shelton Benjamin flying into the ropes. Benjamin came boomeranging back from the rope in time for Batista to raise his arm and plant it with earth shattering force into the upper portion of his chest. The impact of the clothesline sent Shelton Benjamin straight to the mat. Nancy grimaced with pity for the imminent soreness. No doubt Shelton Benjamin would be in need of a hot tub after tonight.

The match proceeded and even though she knew next to nothing about how the whole thing worked, she couldn't deny that it was enthralling. It was a veritable orchestra of athleticism, conducted by the obvious ringmaster, Batista who apparently was making it his objective to detach Shelton Benjamin's head from his body. Several more clotheslines and back-body drops later and Batista's body was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. Nancy couldn't take her eyes off of the action….she couldn't take her eyes off of the man. The final blow was dealt in the form of the iniquitous _'Batista Bomb'_ and Nancy stared slack-jawed as Dave Batista, a look of primal rage engraved into the features of his face, slammed Shelton Benjamin's head between his legs.

Dave smiled as if possessed and then spinning Shelton upward in a sick display of vertigo, hoisted him over his head, allowing him a brief reprieve from the terror, before slamming him into the mat on his back. It all happened in slow motion for her, watching as Shelton impacted with bone jarring intensity. The likes of which may has well have been a high-speed train wreck. Try as she might, Nancy couldn't move, couldn't look away, as a small orb of heat began to knot in the pit of her stomach…the absolute riveting, primeval display of power stole her breath away in excitement and sheer awe. And yet it terrified her at the same time…the sight of his animalistic, feral fury, forcibly thrust onto his opponent.

The sound of his music filled her ears and still she was hammered to the spot, hands gripping the rail of the upper tier, knuckles turning white. She stared at him as he stood in victory over top of Shelton Benjamin, holding his belt and making some caustic insult meant to enforce the present rivalry between the two men. He was statuesque, no doubt, but something else about him drew her in, she couldn't put her finger on it. Nancy saw him scan the crowd as he finally sauntered with his belt toward the edge of the ring, and as if he'd known all along that he was being watched from the rafters, he lifted his gaze, and it lodged directly on Nancy. A glimmer of recognition…a crooked smile and then he tipped a small salute, almost the same as she had given Christy earlier, and then after seeing her look of horror, he grinned roguishly and ducked under the ropes.

"Shit!" She hissed and turned away from the railing, seeking shadows to hide herself. It was going to prove even more difficult for her to mend fences with Christy Hemme when the Diva discovered that Nancy had been taking a break in the balcony, watching her boyfriend annihilate his opponent. "Shit, Shit, Shit!" she whispered furiously, clenching her hands in nervousness. Scuttling down the stairwell and pausing behind the door in the darkness, Nancy steadied her breathing and prayed that she didn't bump into '_him'_ in the hallway. Could she possibly always be in the wrong place at the wrong time? It never failed, if there was a way to get caught doing something, no matter what _that 'something'_ was, Nancy would find the way.

She was just about to open the thick metal door, when a deep, angry voice and heavy footsteps began to approach. Nancy tiptoed down the stairs to the landing just beneath the one on which she had been perched, and she did so just in time…as the door swung open and the rolling resonant brogue of Triple H alerted her to his presence. Even in the dark she was able to tell it was him…she peeked timidly through the space in the risers and saw him pacing furiously, huge and intimidating, trying to keep his voice down as he barked out orders into the thin cellular phone.

"I made the mistake of thinking he was a barrel-chested idiot once before, remember!" He ground out between clenched teeth. "I don't intend to do it again!"

Nancy turned her head from side to side to see if there might be another way out, but this stairwell was obviously the one that led to the basement and there was nothing she could do but wait. There were no doors leading out save for the one blocked by the former Champion and nowhere else but here in the shadows for her to hide. Coming out now would be obvious and he might even surmise that she had been waiting here in order to spy on him. She stood with her back against the cold brick wall and plugged her ears with her fingers, thinking that if in his pacing he decided to walk a few stairs, that he might find her with her fingers in her ears and appreciate her resolve not to pry. But, alas, the temptation to eavesdrop was too strong and she unplugged her ears, and biting her lip, leaned forward.

"I told you what you have to do…and you already agreed to put that stipulation into his contract. Now as far as his future here…I can handle that…I put more than a couple of heads on the chopping block this month."

Nancy wondered _who_ he might be talking about, but before she could ponder further, his verbal admission made it all ring crystal clear.

"If I can't get Batista fired, then I will damn sure make it miserable enough for him to want to leave! Now remember what I told you…or else I'm gonna remember a little something you asked me to forget."

Nancy heard him snap the cell phone shut, and then she peeked between the risers again, but through the darkness she couldn't make out an expression. The door opened showering the stairs and the stairwell in cursed blinding light, but Nancy slid quickly back against the wall to avoid being seen in the event he turned around to check if anyone were behind him.

Now she had no choice but to get out of the stairwell and back to Max. What if Triple H decided he wanted to have another plotting party on the phone and chose the shadowy stairwell as his phone booth again? Nancy could very well be stuck here for the rest of the night if she didn't act now. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, she reached the landing and tugged on the door until she was again momentarily blinded by the fluorescent glare. Nancy didn't stop to take in her surroundings instead she scurried down the hall and around the corner into the safe haven of the curtained Wardrobe Area.

"What took you so long?" Max said as he lifted his head up from the sewing machine, which however temperamental for Nancy always seemed to work for him.

"Uh, I…uh…" Nancy began gesturing nervously with her hands. "I lost track of time…a-and I was talking with John Cena and I guess we just weren't looking at the clock." She said nodding, satisfied that it was a credible lie. "Um, uh…did you get the shirt done?"

"Mmm, hmmm." Max nodded. He had known she was lying because John Cena had poked his head through the curtains about a half hour ago on his way back from the meeting with Nancy to tell Max a second time that he had loved the impression of Christy and to thank him for making his day. But Max said nothing of it to Nancy. The truth was, she appeared to be terrified and he was more interested in seeing her calm down than in getting the truth out of her. "You okay?"

"Of course, I'm fine…why wouldn't I be fine…I'm great." She fidgeted with her hands and began to glance around absentmindedly, trying to find something to do.

"Well, you just look like you saw a ghost." Max informed her, slightly hurt that she wasn't sharing whatever it was she was hiding.

"Oh, gosh…I'm totally cool, just have a hard time with my watch." She sighed heavily and turned away from Max, to keep him from seeing her obvious unease.

Max pressed his lips together in disappointment and rubbed his thick hand through his dirty blonde hair. "Nancy, um…if, uh…if it's something like last time, you know…like with your mom or whatever…" He stammered, having almost as much trouble taking as she was. "You know, like the dreams, I mean. You can talk to me about it…I would never…you know…make you feel bad about it."

Nancy felt a spasm of guilt. Max was after all, her best friend. She should be able to tell him about the snip-it of gossip she had heard, but a deeper sense told her that she was headed for a disaster of her own making, and besides, she didn't relish the thought of being berated by Max for eavesdropping.

"I'm fine…" She said taking Max's hands in her own, and forcing a smile. "Really, really, really." She enunciated each word and then leaned forward and hugged Max, hard. "I promise."

Max still didn't believe her, but considering all he suspected she'd been through as a kid, she was, in his estimation, entitled to some nervous spells…if that was what you could even call this. His gut feeling told him that it was something more than just her past…something very real, very near to the present and very red-headed was scheming to ruin her life and her career. Max would be damned if he'd ever let that happen.

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She'd barely seen it out of the corner of her eye and so Christy Hemme had turned fully to confirm what or whom it had been, skulking out of the stairwell directly after Triple H. It was the plum colored gossamer silk shirt and grey slacks of the Wardrobe Witch that caught her eye. So…now 'little miss klutz' had taken to meeting with Triple H in secret.

This could be '_very'_ interesting, considering that Triple H, better known as Paul Levesque was currently in matrimonial status with the infamous Stephanie McMahon. Christy knew that a tidbit of information like this could prove useful, and perhaps letting Triple H know that _she_ knew what was going on, might even help her career. Christy could, of course, keep her mouth shut if need be…for a price.

She approached Triple H as he whipped the plastic top off of a bottle of water and took a hasty swig. "Interesting gal, isn't she?"

"Who?" Triple H held his arms out in question as he queried acerbically.

Christy smiled and cocked one eyebrow, a tiny laugh under her breath. "Miss. Stitch."

Triple H huffed. "It might help if you could be a little less vague." He swigged his water again, half tempted to spew it on her, the same way he spewed it in the air at the beginning of his matches.

"The fine lady from the Wardrobe Department?….You were with her just now in the stairwell." Christy said matter-of-factly as she tipped one finger in the direction.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Triple H narrowed his eyes until they were little more than slits. "I was by myself in the stairwell!" He announced tersely, his voice ominously low.

Suddenly, Christy wasn't so sure that what she _thought_ she had been witness to was in fact, _actually_ what she had seen. There was no doubt, that she had observed Triple H saunter confidently out of the stairwell just moments ago, but there was also no denying that she had seen Nancy creeping out of the _same_ stairwell right after him. It didn't make sense, unless… "I _did _see her come out right after you…so if you weren't in there carrying on a conversation with _her_, then _what_ were the two of you doing?"

Triple H was through being aggravated and he turned without responding, to stride down the hallway.

"Wait a minute!" Christy reached out and seized his arm, her face quickly contorting into a malicious glare. "I was talking to you!"

"Are you really that stupid?" Triple H smiled. "Or did you take a class from Stacy Keibler? I was in that stairwell alone as far as _I_ knew, so if _she_ was in there also, then she came down _after_ I did, which meant that she was probably up stairs somewhere doing God knows what…and why would I give a shit about her anyhow?" Just then the layout of the darkened stairwell came to mind and he remembered in his labored pacing that there had been one flight of stairs leading down below where he had been, and he realized that it was very likely that the woman could have been eavesdropping on him. He turned and shrugged Christy's arm off. "Maybe you and I _should_ talk." The sudden comprehension that Christy could prove useful caused Triple H to reconsider his approach, and he pulled Christy aside and began to conceive a plan.

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"Well, if you wouldn't pack the trunks so full, then we wouldn't need a crane to load 'em on the bus!" A very red-faced Max Hadaway strained as he again found himself hunched over the damnable trunk, tugging for all he was worth.

"Quit complaining and pull!" Nancy snapped and shoved her small leather day-planner between her teeth, bending over and pushing on the opposite end. The heavy trunk slid mere inches.

Dave Batista slung his bag over his shoulder and ran a hand through his wet hair as he stepped out of the men's locker room. He was definitely ready for the comfort of a hotel bed and a few hours sleep. He lifted his eyes and facing him was the very ample backside of Max Hadaway, no more than ten feet away he was bent over and struggling with the trunk, as if his life depended on it. Dave watched as Max motioned to someone on the other end of the trunk to switch places with him.

It was the wardrobe girl, though he couldn't remember her name…holding a small, leather bound book between her teeth, while laughing and motioning animatedly with her hands. She switched places with Max and leaned down over the trunk and Dave was rewarded with a nice glimpse of her much smaller backside. He found he liked _this_ view better than the former. The two fought with the heavy trunk for a few more minutes and then apparently they decided that it might be better if they both pushed from the same end until they got it to the door.

He couldn't help but think that if they would stop laughing and bickering, mocking and teasing one another, that they might actually have the energy to get the bulky piece of luggage up off the ground. The girl came around the side of the trunk, preparing to put down her day-planner, but losing her balance, she tripped. She managed to recover enough to keep from falling flat on her face, but the cell phone that she had stashed in her front shirt pocket, came flying out and clattered to the floor.

Dave watched as she burst out laughing after Max hooted loudly and then she chortled, letting out a very delicate, lady-like snort. He saw her eyes as they widened at her calamity and then laying down her day-planner on top of the trunk, she stepped past Max evidently intent on picking up her phone, but yet not fully balanced she accidentally kicked the phone with the tip of her high heeled boot. The phone went spinning out of control across the highly polished floor and came to rest against the grey, low-top sneaker of Dave himself.

Dave leaned over and picked the phone up, turning it over in his hand. Something about watching the playful banter that went on between the two of them made Dave feel a bit left out. Left out of what, he didn't know. He just knew that he wanted to be a part of something like that. To be one-half of a friendship without barriers. A way to be himself. He wanted what _they_ had…their own little world inside of RAW. He walked slowly but determinately toward the two of them, stopping several feet short of where she and her partner stood in expectant silence, forcing Nancy to take the last few steps needed to reacquire her phone. Dave waited until she was within a foot of him before he spoke.

"Did you enjoy the match?"

She could only have _prayed_ that he hadn't actually seen her up in the balcony after his victory. Likely he thought she was a stalker. And now that she knew for sure he _had_ seen her, she could feel the hot flush of embarrassment creep up her neck, coming to rest in her cheeks.

"I was, I uh…got lost and I…" Nancy gave up trying to explain why she had been up there. It was a free country. She could be in the balcony if she wanted…she didn't have to explain anything to him.

"Mmm, hmm." He nodded, a twinkle of joviality glimmering in his deep brown eyes, he licked his lower lip before speaking. "You qualify for ringside seats, since you're staff…you _do_ know that, don't you?"

"I wasn't watching your match!" She said in a tight, clipped voice. "I told you I got lost, when I…" She was cut off in mid excuse by his soft, deep laughter. The sound of it was something like the vocal equivalent of warm brandy. It was soothing and appealing. She could feel her face growing hotter by the minute.

"Well, I'm glad you found your way back." His lips quivered with hidden merriment. "I'll see you around." He tipped his head and gave another salute and a sharp wink and turned to walk away.

Nancy could barely find her tongue but she managed to call out to him. "Oh, my phone!" She quickly strode the distance that his large steps had put between them.

"Ah, that's right." He handed the phone to her, and held onto it a second longer than necessary. He didn't know why, maybe it was an excuse to touch her hand or to smell her perfume again. What in the hell was he thinking?

Nancy said nothing in return, she simply watched him go.


	8. Chapter 7

Uncommon Sense Chapter 7  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"A discovery is said to be an accident meeting a prepared mind."

**Albert Szent-Gyorgyi**  
_US (Hungarian-born) biochemist (1893 - 1986)_

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"Okay, so maybe you wanna share with me…a little bit about what's going on between you and _Mr. Heavyweight Champ_?' Max said tearing off a massive bite from his fully-loaded hamburger.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Nancy mumbled between bites. She was more than eager to keep the volume of their conversation at a minimum. The all-night diner was nearly vacant except for the remainder of the make-up team who sat only two booths away and the last thing she could handle right now was a churning rumor mill.

Max chuckled and took a loud sip of his soda, leaving Nancy to wonder how any human being could possibly make so much noise simply with a straw. "Oh, and could somebody _please_ tell me what that whole wink and salute thing means?" He commented a bit louder than necessary. "I mean, come on…_He's_ not a soldier, and God knows _you're_ not a soldier…but ya know if you two get together, you could always play that dress-up soldier-boy game, where you could be the drill sergeant…"

"Shut up, Max!" She whispered loudly. "I think you're losing your mind, you know it!" She ducked her head down and took a small bite of her chicken sandwich when she noticed that several people had raised their heads to look at the two of them.

"Do you like him?" Max asked, chewing rapidly. "I could always put a good word in for you."

Nancy slapped her sandwich down onto the plate and snatched up a french-fry. "_This_ is not grade school, Max! What are you trying to do?"

"_I_ am pushing _you_ out of your comfort zone." He said after another loud slurp.

"_You_ are pushing _me_ into an early grave!" Nancy whispered fiercely.

Max, leaned in toward Nancy, snatched the French-fry from her hand and then using the fry to point at her he spoke. "_You_ would be a lot less grumpy if you'd get laid more than once a century!" He then punctuated his statement with a sharp chomp of the fry.

"You know what?" She said crossly. "You may be right…but it's my sex-life, and I can get laid – or not laid, once a century if I want!" The waitress had apparently heard only the last bit of her comment but Nancy was no less mortified as she declined a refill from the stunned woman.

Max shoveled a handful of chip crumbs into his mouth, not caring that thousands of tiny scraps littered the front of his black t-shirt. "That's fine…I just think that you forget how well I know you and _I_ know that there is something going on there…could turn into a worthwhile relationship, ya never know."

Nancy turned the plastic ketchup bottle upside down and gave it a hard squeeze pooling it onto her plate, inadvertently splattering small red drops of paste on the front of her blouse. Her eyes never left Max's face as she spoke. "I'll tell you what it's gonna turn into, Max…it's gonna turn into _nothing_, because _he_ has Christy, and in case you've forgotten _she_ has me squarely at the top of her shit list."

"Never say never." Max told her. "Besides, you like him and there's no reason…"

"I _don't_ like him!"

"Then why in the hell do you keep throwing your shit at him if you don't want him to notice you." He was baiting her and he knew it. She was a kettle about to blow, but Max knew that pushing her near the edge was the only way that he could get her to admit her attraction and thereby see the very thing she was always shoving away.

"What do you mean, I'm throwing my shit at him?" Nancy was just south of livid.

"Well for starters, last week it was your walkie-talkie and then tonight, your phone."

Nancy simmered down and blew out a sigh, shaking her head. "The only reason he had the damned walkie is because I dropped it when I ran into Christy, _which_, by the way is the only reason he knows who the hell I am in the first place." She bit into a pickle slice. "And as for the phone…I would never have dropped it if I hadn't had to pick up your slack and help you move the trunk."

"Whatever…" Max grinned, enjoying her denial. "I just think that if he was really _so_ into Christy, he wouldn't have even spoken to you, he would have stepped over your phone and kept on going."

"He was just being a gentleman." She bit into her sandwich again, trying to sound noncommittal.

"Sure, whatever…" Max huffed. "Christy doesn't date gentlemen, she dates money."

"Well, then there you go." Nancy inserted. "He was only talking to me to be nice."

"Oh well, that _must_ be it…we guys always talk to other chicks when we're dating a playboy bunny…give me a break!"

Nancy leaned back and chewed thoughtfully, contemplating what Max was saying. "Besides…even if I _did_ like him,_ not_ that I do like him, he's with someone else, I don't even know him, really…I'm just saying."

Max nodded and then began to laugh. "I like the fact that he almost walked off with your phone. And by the way…how in the _world_ did you manage to trip and kick your own damned phone halfway down the hall? I thought I was accident prone! I swear, I think it was fate."

Nancy tossed her french-fry at Max and it hung on the lip of his t-shirt pocket. "I think you're full of it!" She said just above a whisper.

Max winked and gave the same salute he'd seen Dave Batista reward her earlier. "You know it baby!" He ignored her eye rolling and snatched the fry off of his shirt popping it into his mouth.

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Dave Batista opened his PDA and checked his messages, finding a reason to smile when he saw that he had one message from his youngest daughter Audrey. She was the five year old, spitting image of her mother. A veritable princess who had stolen his heart the moment she had come into the world. And boy, did she ever know it too. A second message from his oldest daughter, fourteen year old Vanessa downloaded and he leaned his back against the headboard and touched the stylus to the screen, opening the first of his messages.

"_Daddy,_

_I packed everything today after I got home from school and I am ready to go. I had a field trip today at the big aquarium, I don't remember the name, only I am in real big trouble because I put pencil shavings in the tank of the puffer fishes. My teacher made me stand by her the whole rest of the time and Mom said that I am in so much trouble I'll never get out. Does this mean that I am going to be grounded when I come to stay with you?_

_Love Audrey."_

Dave rolled his tired eyes and laughed softly, thinking how much alike he and his youngest daughter were at that age. She was a bit of a mischief maker as he had been. He opened the message from Vanessa.

_Daddy,_

_Audrey packed everything in her room practically and it is all just sitting by the front door. Mom said she has to wait until Audrey goes to sleep and then we can re-pack her stuff for her_ _even though_ _we aren't even leaving for a week. Mom doesn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her she didn't pack right. I told Mom that you said we can go shopping and she thought you might be able to find new swimsuits for us because we left ours at Grandma Leticia's house last month. Love you!_

_Vanessa_

Dave wrote quick responses to each of his daughters, as had become the nightly custom since his divorce, and then a short note to his ex-wife confirming that he would happily get his girls new swimsuits and inquiring about the pencil shaving-puffer fish incident.

His split and subsequent divorce from his wife, though distressing, had been amicable and it was some consolation that he still felt comfortable speaking with Angie about the things that a married couple would talk about. There had been no anger and no yelled insults when she had announced that she was ready for the divorce and oddly, Dave had just somehow known that it was time.

He knew that his countless months on the road had been partly to blame, not completely but still they had been a factor. The biggest assassin of their relationship, however, had been Dave's indifference to the whole situation. He had always entertained the belief that as long as he was 'bringing home the bacon', then anything else that transpired on the home front had to be Angie's fault or Angie's responsibility to deal with.

He had never fully inserted himself into the role of spouse, but rather he had become the 'Daddy Warbucks', sweeping in and spoiling his girls and then leaving them in Angie's lap when it was time for another trip out of town. By the time he had realized the damage he was doing, it was too late. Angie was ready to move on and she wasn't changing her mind. The last he'd heard she was dating a teacher from Audrey's private school.

He tapped the stylus against the 'send' icon and shut his PDA laying it atop the nightstand. Picking up the telephone he requested a wake-up call from the night clerk who was all too happy to oblige, and then snapped the lamp off, tugging the covers over his head.

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Max whistled to himself as he pinned the seam of a blue silk skirt. He knew in less than an hour, Christy Hemme would be having a bra and panties match against Stacy Keibler. No doubt she would be wearing the red shirt that just, minutes ago, she had stormed in and demanded without so much as a 'thank you'. Max had been more than happy to lead her to the rack where the shirt hung, politely sheathed in clear plastic and labeled with her name. He stood watching with his heart scarcely beating, as she eyeballed the shirt skeptically and then turned on her heel and stomped out.

Max laid the blue silk skirt over the back of a chair close by and pulled a bolt of grey fabric from the stack, preparing for his next project. He watched in silence as Nancy ran a length of fabric through the serger, a look of intense concentration on her face. The fabric began to pool into a pile on the floor as she sent it through the machine being careful to keep her line straight. Her silence made him wonder what she might be thinking about or if she was merely immersed in her sewing.

"You mind if I go take a break for awhile?" Max asked casually as he glanced at the clock. He was sure that he could find a monitor on which to watch Christy's match, somewhere in the building. Hiding his anticipation, he stood and pretended to stretch, when what he really felt like doing was dashing out and planting his outsized ass in a seat at ringside as fast as he could possibly manage.

"Sure, go ahead…I've got a few projects left to keep me occupied." Nancy continued with her task amidst the hum of the machine, raising her head for a mere second, before dipping her neck again to focus on the yardage.

"You want me to bring you back a cup of coffee? I'm sure I can get it here… _intact_." He teased, speaking up to be heard over the loud purr of the serger.

"Hardy Harr…and yes, please, bring me coffee." Nancy grinned as she shouted above the noise, never looking up from her work.

Max slipped out of the Wardrobe and sauntered down the hallway amidst a bustle of activity, intent on finding a monitor. He had ventured no more than twenty feet away from the wardrobe door when he was approached by the World's Heavy Weight Champion, clad in an Armani suit with his Championship belt draped casually over his shoulder.

"I'm looking for your friend, the girl that you work with?" Dave Batista began gesturing with his hand in a rolling motion.

"You mean…um, Nancy Adams?" Max asked, suddenly wary.

"That's right…Is she…?" he pointed toward the other end of the hall.

"Back there?" Max finished his question for him. "Yep, she's in _Wardrobe_, you need me to take her a message or something?" The thought occurred to Max that Christy might have donned the rigged shirt and already had her 'little explosion' and was just sending Batista to have a word with Nancy. An image of the huge Champion pummeling poor Nancy with his belt caused Max to snap back to reality.

"No, I'll just take care of this on my own." Dave said calmly and switched his belt from one shoulder to the other.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can help you with?" Max stammered a little too quickly, imagining a livid Christy spinning her tales of woe to Dave just moments ago. His fears were allayed the moment he spotted the object of his dread, weaving through the hallway toward the make-up area, wearing the red shirt, which seemed to be holding its own across the expanse of her 'new' breasts.

"Something bothering you?" Dave asked, furrowing one brow and looking down at Max's hand which was at present latched tightly to his forearm.

"No, I just thought since she's pretty busy I would offer to help." Max removed the hand from the Champion's arm and sighed with new found relief when he discovered that whatever the Champ wanted, it probably had nothing to do with Christy's shirt.

"I promise I won't take up very much of her time." He turned without waiting for Max's response and continued toward the Wardrobe.

"Whew…" Max blew out a breath as he marched further down the hall, and had a near miss with the thin frame of Vicki, the make-up artist.

The petite woman was so lean that she bordered on anorexic. Though not gaunt, her face was harsh and her jaw-line was pronounced, giving her countenance a measure of stiffness. Vicki smirked as she appraised Max's slapdash way of dressing, her eyes sweeping downward and taking in the half tucked rumpled blue shirt. A tiny laugh fluttered over her full, glossy pink lips as they formed an irresistible pout. And then in true hateful fashion she remarked. "Wow, you look like you've lost weight…did you switch from eating two large pizzas at lunch to eating just one?"

"Thanks for noticing." Max hissed, his heart pounding with the paroxysm of being encountered by a woman he deemed untouchable. "And I must say you look especially pretty this evening…your haircut looks a little less 'butch' than it usually does."

"Why don't you come by my make-up stand later and I'll give you a little something to cover up that crater in your forehead." Vicki ground out between clenched teeth squaring her shoulders for the battle.

"How very nice of you…and then I'll return the favor by whipping up a custom made muzzle in a nice Italian leather for _you_, I hear you're into that whole bondage thing." He was on the verge of growling, when he noticed her harsh gaze turn soft as she narrowed her deep-set sapphire eyes. The azure glitter set his blood to racing and it annoyed him that his frustration with her could be so easily overshadowed by her unconventional beauty.

"Touché, shithead." She commended softly, smiling with slight admiration as she lifted her narrow chin. "You're cute when you're being sarcastic."

Max grunted and then he flexed one flabby bicep and watched Vicki walk away, hips swinging with the smile still on her face.

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Dave Batista raised two knuckles up to the door of the Wardrobe area and tapped softly, but after several seconds of waiting with no answer, he decided to open the door and go inside. He spotted Nancy with her back to the door, feeding the last few feet of a soft black fabric through a machine. She wasn't hunched over the task as he might have expected, but instead, she perched on the chair with a distinct regality, indicating to him that she had a certain pride in her work.

The machine ceased its drone and she stood up fluidly , pulling some of the fabric with her, folding it little by little, with her back still to the door. She wore a soft, black, tapered asymmetrical shirt with thin straps, he assumed it was vintage and a pair of soft grey slacks. As he took note of the aristocratic uniformity of her posture, he couldn't help but let his eyes drop to the tender curve of her backside. He guessed that she was about a size 4…6 at most and unquestionably easy on the eyes. Dave smiled when he saw that she had shucked her shoes in lieu of bare feet. She was singing something, almost inaudible, and he couldn't recognize it but he liked it anyway.

He could have watched her indefinitely he realized, and so he cleared his throat to announce his presence, laughing slightly when he saw her jump and turn to face him, her pale green eyes widening with surprise. He detected a slight flash of annoyance when she recognized him.

"You scared me." She announced, secretly embarrassed that he might have heard her singing.

"Sorry." He apologized laying his belt gently on the table. "I need your help."

Still perturbed by his having caught her perusal from the balcony several nights prior, she quipped.

"What's the matter? Did you pop a button flexing?"

"You mean just now, or ever?" He asked, with an arch of his brow and a boyish grin plastered to his chiseled features.

Nancy rolled her eyes, her tongue lodging in her cheek as she placed the folded fabric on the table pinning a paper reminder to the top of it. He noticed how she seemed so graceful and controlled in her own 'arena'…it was diametrically opposite of how she appeared the moment she walked out into _his_.

"I just needed to talk to you about something and I thought we could carry on the conversation while you fix my shirt." He wouldn't deny that he was a bit nervous thinking about the self inflicted rip, on his sleeve…but he wouldn't admit it either. That rip was to be his poor excuse for coming in to speak with her, just in the event that he lost his nerve.

Nancy watched as he pulled his sunglasses off of the top of his head and slid them into his inner jacket pocket, and then he shrugged out of the massive jacket. His soft blue shirt seemed at first glance to be undamaged but when he raised his right arm, she could clearly see a four inch rip near the seam where the cuff and arm met. She approached him as a doctor might a patient, with no hesitation and began to examine the split in the fabric. Nancy noted how straight and clean the tear appeared to be and she suspected that it might have been intentional. It appeared to have been cut with small scissors.

"How did this happen?" She asked holding his arm in her hands as she ran her finger over the gash.

"It must have happened at the cleaners." He lied, rapidly changing the subject.

"So, I really feel like I owe you an apology."

"An apology?" She asked in surprise, somewhat suspicious of his motives. "Why? Did you do something horrific that I don't know about?"

"Not _yet_." He winked and noticed how she looked away for a split second. "I actually wanted to apologize for Christy's behavior."

Nancy's gaze snapped upward, the meteoric glimmer of confusion in her eyes. "Why would you apologize for her?" It was nigh on impossible to disguise the astonishment in her voice.

The question hit Dave squarely where it counted and he couldn't really understand why he _would_ apologize for Christy. He knew he felt sorry for Nancy because she had been the unwitting target of a few of Christy's tongue lashings, but as for why he felt like he owed her the apology by proxy…he wasn't even sure. Maybe a part of him felt like doing it would make him feel better, or maybe he just didn't want her to judge him based on his association with Christy.

Nancy pulled her sewing needle from within a small leather pouch as she spoke. "Don't get me wrong…"

She began threading the needle swiftly, as he pulled his gold cuff links off, and slid them into the pocket of his slacks. His fingers were deft, and Nancy swallowed noticing how large his hands were and how gently they handled the small gold links.

"I appreciate the apology and I think it's really big of you…"

She examined the rip once more as he leaned against the table and held his arm with the loose sleeve forward.

Dave observed her as she slid her finger into the tear inspecting it. He swallowed when her narrow, shiny nail grazed the tender skin of his wrist. There was no denying the graceful curve of her neck and the way it tapered down into the soft angle of her collarbone. He gulped again as a glimmer in the hollow of her throat caught his eye. It was the tiniest diamond he'd seen as of late, on a slender platinum chain. A miniscule adornment made all the more interesting because of where it lay, nestled in that tender hollow. He was entranced as the diamond moved whenever she breathed, sending millions of brilliant points of light glittering outward from its center.

"…Especially since she would probably never apologize in a billion years…you're gonna have to take this off."

Nancy motioned to his shirt and then turned away to heat up the iron so she could give his shirt a quick press after she mended it.

"You know this will only be temporary fix?"

She added a small amount of water to the iron.

"After tonight, you should probably buy a new…"

Her breath lodged painfully in her throat when she turned around, coming face to face with the massive muscular planes of Dave Batista's chest.

"…shirt."

The last word came out as a bit of a squawk, and she willed her lungs to drag in the much needed air. It was one thing to be looking at a superior physical specimen from afar as she had been when she had watched his match from the balcony. But it sure as hell was quite another to be less than a foot away from the magnificent, living, breathing version of it.

The tattoos that marked his shoulders and upper arms only enhanced the striations in his muscles and the road map of his veins, cascading down the breadth of his chest across the rigid plane of his rock hard abdomen and down to where the waist band of his slacks barely concealed what lay beneath, all came together to tell a story of hard work and endurance.

Nancy swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat deforming her words, and Dave watched the diamond sparkle again, bringing his attention to the modest neckline and the tempting swell of the breasts that he could not see, but knew were there. He admired the red flush of awkwardness that rose from her hidden décolletage, under the delicate straps of the thin blouse and then upward to the gentle curve of her face. It made her more appealing…and the animal inside him growled feverishly.

'_She wants you.' _His inner animal informed him.

'She's not for me.' He silently replied.

'_Take her anyway!'_ The Animal argued, but Dave regained his composure and silencing his beast, he handed Nancy the shirt and rounded the table, putting it between her and himself, despite the temptation to use the table for a whole other purpose.

Nancy took the shirt in hand and sitting down in the nearest chair, she drew her legs up Indian style and began to stitch the slit, with the speed and accuracy of the well versed seamstress she was. "Like I said…" She cleared her throat continuing,

"I appreciate you apologizing, but since you didn't do anything wrong…"

The voice inside of him wanted to shout that he'd been doing plenty wrong in the last few seconds, but he remained quiet.

"…you really don't have to apologize for anything."

She looked up and he responded.

"I just don't want people thinking that I condone the way she behaves…or that I make a practice of dating women who behave that way." He shook his head, and her eyes darted back to the stitching, as she tried to take her mind off of his mountainous deltoids and the thickness of his neck, the proud angle of his face.

"You didn't deserve to be spoken to that way." He stated softly.

She was confused at her own surprise that he was so well spoken. By the look of him one might think that he had more muscles than brains, but that seemed to be the reverse in his case.

"Well…thank you." She faltered, pulling the thread up as she stitched. Strangely, he liked the way she said the few simple words…the slight southern lilt in her voice that might have been missed if he hadn't been paying attention. The way she sat, bare-foot, cross-legged, was almost domestic, innocent…he felt the familiar jerk in his loins and the almost explosive desire to snap the table in half just to get to her.

'_What the fuck!'_ he said in silent exasperation, his mind and body on opposite ends of the spectrum. He turned away and ran his hand through his hair, forcing himself to face the wall, partially so she wouldn't see his hard-on, but mostly so he could control the animal inside of him that was refusing to take _'No'_ for an answer.

"All done." Nancy uncrossed her legs and rose, sweeping the shirt over the ironing board to press the wrinkles out of it, unknowingly, giving Dave precious time to win the war with his traitorous body.

He accepted the shirt from her and slid it over his colossal shoulders buttoning it with ease, if a little too eagerly. "Thank you." He said, fighting with his cuff links, when just moments earlier he'd had no problem with them at all.

"You're welcome…and thanks again for the apology." She wet her lips, which she had been chewing on nervously, for the past couple of minutes.

He slid his jacket over the shirt and pulled his belt over his shoulder, rebuilding the façade that had almost crumbled, precious few seconds ago.

"Anytime." He said, his voice deep and liquid, as he slipped his glasses back onto his head.

Nancy was absolutely rattled by his presence, his voice, his nonchalance, "You could make a rip appear more genuine if you'd just use your hands next time instead of scissors…you _do_ know that, don't you?" She mimicked his teasing from their last encounter.

Dave enjoyed her solemn mockery as he nodded his head, never denying that he had made the slice in his own shirt. "You'd be surprised what I know."

He pulled his glasses down far enough for her to see him wink. And then, still the reigning King of Grand Exits, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving her somewhat relieved, slightly lonely and partially tempted to find a place to hide.


	9. Chapter 8

Uncommon Sense Chapter 8  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Chance is always powerful. Let your hook be always cast; in the pool where you least expect it, there will be a fish."

**Ovid**  
_Roman poet (43 BC - 17 AD)_

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Nail biting had never been one of Max Hadaway's intrinsic habits, but in these last few moments he'd taken up the nasty inclination like a seasoned professional. He faced the small monitor that had been set up near the beverage stand and the catered food table and sitting on the edge of an empty table, he watched it with sinister curiosity. Any moment now, the cleverly rigged shirt would burst open and give Nancy the vindication that she knew nothing about, but rightfully deserved. The quandary was; that even when Christy had made her bubble-headed, bouncing like a brainless model entrance, the shirt had still managed to hold fast! Perhaps there would still be hope, maybe the shirt would make a break for it in the middle of the 'Bra and Panties' match and give Stacy Keibler a decidedly unforeseen advantage.

Max watched as Stacy flung Christy by her hair through the air to land gracelessly on her stomach in the center of the ring.

Still the shirt remained intact.

"Sonuva bitch…" Max muttered chewing nervously at a hangnail, concerned that the shirt might hold despite his best efforts to sabotage it.

Christy held tightly to Stacy's hands as she was hauled by her crimson tresses back to her feet and slammed backward into the turnbuckle. The recipient of one of Stacy's famous feet to the throat, Christy seemed to be in enough trouble without any unwanted help from Max.

Again, the shirt remained in one piece.

"Hello." Max nearly jumped out of his skin when Nancy stood on tiptoe to softly bark the greeting in his ear. A short laugh erupted from her throat when he jumped and turned to face her with a slight scowl. It reminded her of the scare Batista had given her only a few minutes ago, and she felt a slight flush.

"Stop doing that, or I'll have you implanted with GPS." Max elbowed her and turned back to the monitor resuming his nail biting.

"What are we watching?" Nancy glanced at the monitor and after realizing that he was engrossed in Christy's match, she asked with confusion. "Why are you watching Christy's match? I thought you couldn't _stand_ her." She made an evil face and put mock claws out beside her cheeks as she'd often witnessed Max do.

Max shook his head never pulling his fingers from his mouth. "I'm not watching Christy, I'm watching _Stacy_."

"Aah, I get it…" Nancy acknowledged and then made a disgusted face when she saw the ravage he was creating by chewing his nails. "Why are you chewing your nails all the way into the quick? Max, stop that." She pulled his hand out of his mouth, despite his look of irritation.

"You're not my mother…" Max said sticking his tongue out at her and snatching his hand away, placing his fingers back in his mouth.

"Do you know how many diseases you can get from that, cut it out." She tugged at his hand once more.

Max ignored her, rapt with the action of the match. He suddenly jumped up and roared his excitement the very moment Stacy kicked Christy in the stomach sending her backward through the ropes and out of the ring. Nancy couldn't help but notice that he was a bit more interested in women's wrestling than he had ever been before and she was justly perplexed by his fresh interest.

The two women grappled on the floor outside of the ring for a moment and then Christy managed to get the upper hand. She slammed Stacy's face into the corner post, and then took advantage of her backward fall by grasping the front of the Diva's shirt, ripping it from her body. Stacy fell clumsily to floor, barely able to give any resistance as Christy snatched at her skirt, pulling it down over her knee-high boots and then holding both pieces of clothing victoriously in the air. Unbeknownst to Max, the match had been slated for Stacy to go over…Christy had not been scheduled to win.

"Dammit." Max curled his lips in anger and then gave the monitor the finger.

Nancy was more curious then amused. "Had a big bet on that one, did ya?"

"No, I didn't." Max's voice resounded frustration. "I just wanted to see that bitch lose." He stood up from the table he'd been sitting on and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Nancy smiled reassuringly to him. "You don't have to hate her just because she hates me, okay? But it's a nice way to show me that you care." She hugged Max and then linked her arm through his preparing to walk back to the wardrobe area, when Max spied Christy fairly skipping down the cat walk, a smile of triumph plastered to her beautiful face.

He paused with Nancy on his arm and watched as Christy was approached by Stephanie McMahon-Levesque.

"You really have made an impression lately. Your wrestling skills look a lot less telegraphed." Stephanie extended her hand. "I'm very impressed, even though you weren't supposed to be 'over' tonight."

Instead of taking her hand, Christy gave a childlike hop and swept in on Stephanie for a girlish hug. "Thank you! I was hoping someone would notice! And sorry about that, the ref was just rushing me."

Stephanie smiled in surprise and returned the hug. "Well you are definitely being noticed, that's for sure," Stephanie released Christy and stepped back…and that's when it happened.

Like a replay of Mt. Saint Helens, the beautiful, fire-engine red shirt erupted open with the force of a volcano. The fusible webbing finally gave way and the buttons that had been held in place by a bare minimum of thread snapped off in succession like tiny missiles. Christy's eyes widened, bugging nearly out of her head as she grasped the lapels, her own confusion engraved upon her face. Taking a closer look at the sad looking lapels, she noticed something amiss…and so did Stephanie.

She stepped closer to Christy and seized one of the lapels. She inspected it closely taking note of the white fusible tape that she only recognized as a way to reinforce something that clearly might not hold on its own. It was one of Stephanie's old tricks…a page from her very own playbook, reinforcing a shirt before a bra and panties match…now she knew why Stacy hadn't won, as had been planned.

"I know what this is." Stephanie said pursing her lips angrily. "Maybe you might wanna explain it for yourself?"

"I have no idea what this is, I-I took this to have it fixed by…" Christy began, but stopped short as Stephanie released the lapel with a disgusted snort.

"You had this shirt reinforced so it would be harder to rip off in the match!" Stephanie accused jabbing her forefinger toward Christy's face.

"No! I-…"

"You sure as hell did! And I'd say that gave you a bit of an unfair advantage, don't you think?"

"Stephanie, I swear I didn't know anything about this!" Christy was on the verge of tears. Her gaze darted from left to right as people milled around to hear what was being said.

"Shut up!" Stephanie bit out fiercely, "Since you like to stack the odds in your favor, maybe we need to up the stakes a little!" She glowered at Christy who stood, shoulders slumped in defeat with tears of shame streaming down her face.

Nancy stood beside Max and watched from a distance, but despite the fact that Christy had been hateful to her Nancy still felt pity for the Diva, having known what it felt like to be accused of something that you hadn't actually done. Sure Christy had asked for the shirt to be sewn up, but Nancy was sure she hadn't banked on it being rigged and certainly not on getting caught. Max had done it, she knew, but the fault lay with her for not checking the work better.

She turned and glanced disappointedly at Max, who couldn't even look her in the eye. With a sigh, Nancy pulled her arm from his. "I'll be right back." She began to take a step toward the spectacle in front of her, with the intention of taking responsibility for the truth that she'd only just that moment found out, but Max grasped her arm and held tight.

"Don't do it…I did it, and I'll tell Stephanie, but not in front of all these people. It'll just make it worse." Max stood his ground with a tight grip on her arm and Nancy reluctantly submitted. Though h couldn't tell Nancy, he didn't feel the slightest bit sorry for Christy and he was absolutely ecstatic about the timing with which the entire incident transpired. He couldn't have scripted it better if he had written it into a play.

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"Please Stephanie, I swear! It was that bitch from the wardrobe department!" Christy sobbed, clutching at the front of her shirt, desperately trying to hide her near nakedness.

"I hope you're ready for next week at the pay-per-view…and without pathetic excuses!" Stephanie squared her shoulders dangerously as she closed in, nose to nose with the Diva. "You just earned yourself a handicap, Bra and Panties Match with Stacy Keibler _and_ Victoria!" Stephanie reveled in the look of horror that crossed the Diva's face. She knew that Christy was not well liked around the ladies locker room and she was also aware that Victoria held a particular aversion for the red-head and would therefore not 'pull her punches' in the match. Satisfied with the decision she had made, Stephanie turned around and stalked off into the office of Eric Bischoff the General Manager.

"Holy Shit…" Max said laughing, devoid of his earlier contrition and then he gave a boisterous hoot.

This elicited a murderous glare from Christy, who had turned to see where the noise came from. She gritted her teeth when she noticed Nancy, and turned to face the duo, obviously prepared for a confrontation.

"If you'll just excuse me…I'm gonna go strangle myself with a sewing machine cord." Nancy whispered heatedly. She was eager to get back to the _Wardrobe_ area where she could at least have privacy if she was confronted by someone from the upper echelon of management. Some privacy if she were to be fired.

Max followed, still cackling and finding it difficult to keep up with the furious pace Nancy was setting. "Nancy, I can explain." He began shuffling to try to catch up. "Look there's no need to 'haul the mill', hell! Give a fat boy a chance! Slow down!"

Nancy was stalking around the corner and just as she turned to make a snide remark to Max, she ran smack into Chris Jericho/Irvine, knocking his armload of shirts, keys and Fozzy promo cd's out of his hands and onto the floor.

"Jesus!" Chris hollered, and reached down to pick up some of the fallen loot. "Why the hell don't you watch where you're going?" He shoved her hands out of the way as she reached for a cd to hand to him. "Don't touch my shit!"

"Sorry..here are your…" She meant to hand him back his keys, but was cut off in mid-sentence when he raised his head skewering her with a dagger-like glare.

"Christy warned some of us about you! Dumb clumsy ass." He muttered angrily in his jerky attempts to recoup his scattered merchandise.

Max reached the scene seconds later and without hesitation he placed himself between Nancy and Chris. "Ease up buddy, it was just an accident." Max explained on her behalf.

"She seems to have a whole lot of accidents lately…and who are you anyway? Her body guard?"

"Maybe." Max replied straightening his posture in an attempt to appear more formidable.

"Why don't you just go about your business before you get your ass kicked, Fat boy!"

"I've taken my share of ass whoopins', I think I'm immune." Max wasn't scared, and he definitely wasn't moving.

"Get out of my way." Chris scoffed, nostrils flared and brushed past Max and Nancy, stomping down the hall with everything in hand…except…for his shiny ring of car keys.

Nancy groaned with embarrassment, "How can a person be so accident prone?" She then held up the keys, his keys…suspended on her forefinger and bit her lip. "Oh Great…he left his keys."

"Uh, uh…Gimme those…I'll go give them to one of the guys in the locker room and they can give 'em back to Chris." Max announced taking the keys gently from Nancy's hand. "If I go track him down now, he's so mad he's liable to take me up on that offer to kick my ass…you go ahead and go back to _Wardrobe_, I'll be there in a minute."

Nancy was tempted to tell him she was prepared to go write up her resignation on a paper-towel in the ladies locker room, but she simply nodded and trudged toward _Wardrobe_.

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Triple H stood back watching the whole incident with sadistic amusement. He couldn't believe his luck. The girl was absolutely a disaster waiting to happen! Having someone like that under his thumb could prove more useful than he ever imagined. Seeing her ability to repay Christy by rigging her clothing was a delight, and now, as he watched her fat assistant toss Chris Jericho's keys into the trash-can after a few words with her gave him a whole new respect for the woman who had spied on him in the stairwell. She had one hell of an agenda up her sleeve.

He chuckled as he pretended to talk on his cell phone and then spun around in time to see an enraged Christy Hemme, homing in on the _Wardrobe_ area. He sprang into action, snapping his cell phone shut, and reaching out, snatching her by the arm and hauling her into the shadows.

"Let go of me!" Christy seethed, trying to wriggle out of the powerful clutches of Triple H.

"Simmer down!" He whispered firmly and gave her a hard shake for good measure. "I know you're planning on going in there and beating the hell out of _'Miss Stitch'_, but that's not going to change anything that just happened and it's liable to get you into more trouble than you're already in!"

She knew he was right but her anger still tugged at her heart, and her hurt pride was goading her on. "I'm gonna kill her!"

"No you're not." Triple H demanded. "You're gonna let it go…" He watched her shake her head adamantly. "Yes, you are…you're gonna let it go, because I have a better plan." Despite her heavy, angry breathing, he sensed her beginning to relax. "My wife is headed back to the hotel in a few minutes." He spoke in a hushed voice. "Be somewhere near a phone at midnight and call me at this number." He slipped a small piece of paper with his cell number on it into her hand. "I'll tell you what I have planned."

Christy stood in the shadowy corridor until long after Triple H had gone, drying her tears and cursing her misfortune. No one had ever gotten the better of her when it came to revenge. Maybe Triple H was right…maybe he did have a better strategy. She would have to get a ride from someone other than Dave tonight or else she wouldn't be able to sneak off to use the phone. Dave had proven to be a light sleeper, and the last thing she wanted was for him to know that she had been in cahoots with his arch enemy…it would destroy any chance she might have of a life with him.

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Relief washed over an exhausted Dave Batista as he read the short note from Christy Hemme that had been delivered to the locker-room by Maria after his match.

_Dave,_

_I'm riding with Maria tonight, hope you don't mind. Some of the gals decided that we should go out and see some of Dallas before we drive to San Antonio for Tuesday night's house show. I'll call you in the morning. I missed you last night, darling!_

_Kisses,_

_Chris_

He had the slightest inclination to vomit when he read the note. Christy the vixen, trying to play the part of a sweet, little lady was about the same thing as biting into a chocolate covered razor-blade. Her true self becoming clearer and clearer by the day, Dave was finding it easier to dislike her. He strengthened his resolve to cut the ties between them, not ties of his own making mind you…Christy had fabricated a full fledged relationship out of simple sex.

What had been a few nights of wild, experimental gratification had obviously been misconstrued. Last night when he had decided to seclude himself in an unknown hotel for the sake of sanity and to catch up on lost sleep, he had never counted on waking up to five voicemails, all from Christy and all coated in sugary, sweet references to the fact that couples shouldn't spend too much time away from one another. She'd even thrown in some cliché about not letting the sun go down on your anger. Nothing about Christy was sincere or true. She was a person of many layers, and when one layer was peeled back, it revealed an even uglier layer underneath. He seriously doubted that she would be the least bit interested in him if he wasn't toting the Gold.

He wadded the note up and shot it straight for the wire trash-can that rested against a solemn row of lockers. The paper went in without so much as grazing the sides. "Hallelujah…" He muttered relieved by the prospect of another night without her company and searched around the locker room for the fifth time in an attempt to find his missing duffel bag. One of the guys must have been playing a prank on him. The bag, complete with his car keys, PDA and other incidentals had been sitting on the bench when he'd entered the shower. But when he had come out, everything but his clothes and shoes were missing. He knew they'd turn up, because this sort of thing happened more often than not. He would just have to finish getting dressed so he could venture out and scour some of the more creative hiding places.

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"It was wrong, no matter why you did it." Nancy admonished Max lightly about the incident with Christy's shirt, as she helped him pack away the last of the trunks in the luggage compartment. "By the way, did you give Chris Jericho his keys back?"

Max nodded. "The keys are exactly where they belong." The tiny white lie rolled easily over his lip.

"Okay good…where's my purse?" Nancy turned from side to side scanning the ground.

"You know what?" Max said widening his eyes. "I'll bet its back in that room we used, on one of the tables…I'll wait while you go get it."

"Oh wonderful…" Nancy said dryly, hesitant being as the arena was darkening steadily, its caretakers turning of light after light. The bus was running and everything and everyone except she and Max were loaded. "Hold the bus I'll be right back."

"No prob." Max said, grinning inwardly, his plan taking shape better than he'd hoped. He watched as Nancy tugged off her black, strappy heels and ran barefoot back into the arena.

Nancy jogged into the dimly lit arena and made her way back to the corridor leading to the room that had been used as her _Wardrobe_ area. She passed one of the arena attendants who gladly let her in the room to find her handbag. Laying hands on it she breathed a sigh of relief and tucked it under her arm so she could carry her high-heels in her hands. "Thank you." She said to the attendant who nodded and smiled. And then she made her way back out into the darkened hallway toward the loading ramp from where she had just come.

Nancy stepped out just in time to see the enormous bus pulling away from the ramp…without her.

"Wait!" Nancy shouted breaking into a run behind the exhaust blowing machine. "Stop!"

The bus didn't appear to be slowing and in panic Nancy took one of her high-heels in hand and hurled it with all of her might. It bounced unheeded off of the back of the bus and Nancy had no choice but to chase the bus down or watch its tail lights fade into the night. She ran only a few more strides before pitching the other shoe at the back end of the bus, to no avail. She groaned in aggravation and then, shoulders slumping, she began to dig through her bag for her cell phone, which mysteriously was nowhere to be found. "As if this night could get any worse." Nancy muttered as she rounded up her shoes and then turned to walk back through the parking garage into the arena in search of a payphone.

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Dave had tossed his duffel bag into the back of his Ferrari 575 F Maranello, when a distinctly familiar, female voice caught his attention. He glanced up to see none other than Nancy Adams lobbing a black shoe at the back of the WWE's Bus and shouting for it to stop. It must have been the second shoe she had thrown and when she bent over to pick both of them up, he chanced to look at the back end of the bus and noticed that for a split second the brake lights came on, and then went off. It seemed strange that her assistant wouldn't have held the bus for her. Had she forgotten something? He watched the bus as it rounded out of the parking garage and saw that the interior light had come on and her assistant was clearly standing, face peering out of the window and then motioning for something. The interior lights went off and the bus went on its way. Nancy had seen none of this, as her back had been turned in the search for her shoes.

He shut the door of his car taking a step toward the front of it and the echo drew her eye to the source of the noise.

"Oh God, could I be any more humiliated tonight?" Nancy whined under her breath, as she plodded toward the back door of the arena, intent on finding a phone. Of all the people that could have possibly been late to leave the venue, it had to be the one man that unsettled her the most. "Why are you here so late?" She asked nervously, wondering if he'd seen her throwing high-heels at the bus.

"I'm running behind." He answered smoothly and then smiling, he teased. "Looks like you're just running."

"You shouldn't tease." She grinned in spite of her embarrassment. "Maybe they'll come back." She said hopefully, tossing a glance toward the ramp.

The innocent implication of what she'd said rocked him to the core and he had to control his impulse to show her what teasing was all about. "Not likely." He pointed to the tail-lights of the bus as they rounded up to the turnpike past the American Airlines Arena. "Maybe you can call your partner."

"My phone's missing." She held open her tiny beaded handbag revealing a wallet and a half empty pack of gum.

"Use mine." He palmed Nancy the sleek phone and watched as she dialed the number. Her disappointment was apparent as she snapped the phone shut gently and handed it back to him.

"It just goes straight to his voice mail." She announced, biting her lip.

He turned and pointed to his car. "Can I give you a ride?"

"I don't wanna put you out. Maybe I can just call a cab." She lowered her eyes so he wouldn't see how helpless she felt right now.

Dave laughed softly…a laugh that tickled her insides and made her feel like she should run and hide. "Yeah and what if they decide to head straight out of Dallas? Do you know how much cab fare is from here to San Antonio?" He smiled and put his phone back into his pocket. "You'd have to borrow from your IRA to pay the tab."

Nancy nodded in agreement. "Are you sure it's not a problem?" Hesitant about accepting the ride, she began to slip the high-heels on her feet.

"If it were a problem, I wouldn't have extended the offer." He said coolly. "Come on." Dave turned and walked with the nobility of a King toward the Ferrari parked a short distance away.

Nancy followed behind him and as she passed the front end of the magnificent car, she couldn't stifle the impulse to glide her fingertip across the ultra-smooth metallic silver finish. "It's beautiful…" She whispered mesmerized by the monstrous machine which could only have been a mechanical metaphor for the man himself.

"Beautiful?" Dave repeated scoffing. "A car like this is _not_ 'beautiful'…_This_, my friend, is one of the sleekest, most impressive, most powerful driving machines ever made. Bar none. I can guarantee you that you've never, _ever_ been in anything that goes this fast, _except,_ maybe a plane."

Nancy smiled a look of amusement on her face as she regarded him. "You've rehearsed that speech before haven't you?"

"Twice." Dave admitted grinning boyishly, opening the passenger door and motioning for her to get in. He waited until she pulled her legs inside and then shut the door soundly behind her.

Rounding the car, thinking he was in control, the temptation hit him again. The way those black heels had looked on her feet as she had tucked them inside the car, the remembered sight of her chucking her shoes like a professional pitcher, the way that delicate finger had grazed the hood of his car, the same way it had touched his wrist earlier in the evening...Maybe giving her a ride was a mistake. Maybe he knew it full well and just didn't give a damn. Tonight would be the ultimate test of gentlemanly restraint. He slid easily into the driver's seat and without warning, could smell her perfume, the musky spice of patchouli and something else he couldn't quite describe. He inhaled deeply, yet subtly as turned the key, and the car roared to life. He liked the look of surprise that played across her delicate features when she felt the muscle of the engine rumbling around her. He faced her and she faced him, a look of fearful anticipation erupted on her face. Dave Batista slammed the car into gear and squealed out of the parking garage at breakneck speed.

By the time they hit the stop light at the end of the road that led out to the turnpike, Nancy was laughing out loud, delighted and terrified at the same time.

"I bet we could catch the bus in this thing." She laughed breathlessly engaging her seatbelt.

"I'm _not_ chasing down a bus, on the highway at night." Dave announced, waiting impatiently for the light to turn green. "But, yes we could catch 'em if we wanted to."

The light finally turned green and he peeled the car out onto the turnpike and then opened up onto the highway. The Maranello hugged the road tightly, riding so smoothly despite the high rate of speed that Nancy couldn't even gauge how fast they were actually moving. They had ridden along in silence for several minutes before Nancy leaned gingerly over and glanced at the tachometer. The reading was over 120 miles per hour. She let out a little cry of surprise.

"Are you afraid?" Dave asked breathing in her perfume.

"You could get a ticket." Nancy told him, and yes, she was afraid, but she'd never let _him_ know that.

"I'll slow down…I just wanted to pass the bus first." He chuckled as the rear end of the bus covered with WWE logos drifted into view. "Here's your chance to change your mind…I can stop them if you say so…or I can pass 'em if you want."

By damned he had caught the bus! Nancy contemplated his idea for a second or two and then she tilted her head and said. "Just pass 'em."

Dave couldn't understand why he was glad she chose to continue riding with him, but he didn't second guess it, he pressed his foot down on the accelerator and roared past the bus, with his middle finger hanging out the driver window in the event that Max was watching.

Nancy wondered why he had done that, but she didn't ask. "So are you sure you're okay with driving all night through to San Antonio?"

"Well I'm not exactly going straight there. "He announced, staring at the road.

Nancy felt a bit of apprehension. "Why not?"

"Well, because I'm hungry…and there's an all night diner just outside of Dallas and they serve the biggest, greasiest, most fattening burgers in all of the US…and believe me I've been around."

Nancy couldn't help wonder how much truth there was to the last part of his statement. She nodded, feeling her own stomach rumble loudly.

"Of course there are salads and other things…less fattening." He glanced over to her.

"What? I can't have a burger?" Nancy knitted her brow together.

"Well, sure you can…you just don't look like you…eat…much." He said gesturing with his free hand.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Nancy announced, secretly looking forward to a juicy, calorie-laden burger. This was definitely going to be one of the longest nights of her life. Putting her handbag down in the floor board and sliding off her shoes, she made a mental note to break her foot off in Max's backside the very next time she laid eyes on him.


	10. Chapter 9

Uncommon Sense Chapter 9  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Laughter is the shortest distance between two people."

Victor Borge

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It was just past midnight when the silver Ferrari wheeled into the parking lot of the diner. Dave Batista slowed the machine to a crawl and steered warily around a few nearly invisible potholes. He seemed to know where they were, even though Nancy could barely tell they existed. This led her to believe that he had been there more than just a couple of times. He steered into a space close to the front door and then whipped up the parking brake, remaining in his seat.

"This is the place." He pointed casually to the blue and red neon sign above the door of the diner. It said 'Pat's Place', but because the letter 'T' in Pat's flickered on and off as if it were ready to give it's last light, the name looked more like 'Pa 's Place'. There was a definite charm about the diner with its crackled white clapboard siding and oversized front windows. Something about it was so normal, so laid back and easy going compared to the rapid pace of his life that it was a comfort to him and he made an effort to visit the diner every time he came to Texas for a show. The diner reminded him of his childhood, the things he had missed…the things that he was trying to hold onto. If he was within a couple hundred miles of the diner and had brought his own vehicle, he made the trip, no matter how much gas he wasted. "Junk food heaven." He murmured softly.

The diner held a decidedly different sensation for Nancy. It reminded her of being on the road with her mother. As a child, she had found herself in a different town every couple of months, eating in diners just like this one usually on someone else's coin. Looking around, she could remember sleeping in the back seat of her mother's Delta 88 in the parking lot of a few all night diners similar to this one, praying that no one could break in while they slept. A deep breath and a sigh…and then she stifled the memory as she always did.

"What's the matter? You still afraid I won't let you have a burger?" Dave joked as he turned the ignition off and the beastly muscle car silenced.

Nancy laughed softly. "I was actually just thinking about adding a chocolate shake to that order." She slid her high heels back on and opened the door of the car, stepping out onto the torn up gravel lot.

"Careful, the ground's not level." He spoke from somewhere behind her, close behind her…because she could smell the warm tenor of his cologne. Nancy hadn't even noticed that he'd already exited the car and closed his door.

Peering down at the ground, she could see that he was right. The parking lot, having long been neglected, was in sore need of a new tar job and a good cleaning. The potholes seemed to be everywhere, and it was a wonder that Dave hadn't hit even one of them when he had pulled in to park. Nancy stepped gingerly over the loose gravel and random chunks of broken asphalt, and then hopped onto the sidewalk where it was flatter and less perilous. "Not much in the budget for repairs, huh?" She laughed and pushed a hazelnut curl away from her eye, tucking it behind her ear.

"Guess not." He said, suddenly wishing he could have touched that silky tendril and then, out of instinct, he placed his fingertips on the small of her back, opening the door to usher her inside. He walked behind her, telling her which booth he normally sat in and as luck would have it, the booth was empty. As the two of them passed the counter, the male cook looked up and making eye contact with Dave Batista allowed a smile to split his face.

Nancy could see that the man was missing one of his front teeth, and it reminded her a little bit of Chris Benoit. He wore a white cook's hat, with an American flag pin staked through the brim and despite the fairly greasy coating on the rest of the surfaces in the diner, he alone appeared to be fresh pressed. His apron and matching white shirt looked as though he'd just donned them…crisp and clean.

"Hey, Big Dave." The man said and raised his shining stainless steel spatula in greeting.

"Pat." Dave acknowledged and then asked. "When are you gonna fix that parking lot?"

"When God himself comes down and hands me a winning Lotto ticket." The robust man smiled again, his Mexican accent thick and pleasant. "Have you seen the price of concrete lately?"

Dave shook his head laughing. "No, I haven't checked around in awhile."

The man laughed affably and went back to flipping his burgers.

Nancy slid into the well worn leather bench seat of a booth near the back of the diner. Only a few people remained in the 24-hour establishment; A clean cut truck-driver, whose rig had been parked at the far end of the lot, a well tattooed biker with the symbol of Christ on the Cross over a banner that read _'Riding for Christ'_, on the back of his leather jacket and an off duty security guard, exhausted from his long day and nodding off in his soup.

"I hope this is okay for you." Dave remarked, pulling his light jacket off and pushing it down beside him in the booth. "Not very many people that I know care to go to places like this." Dave cast a thought to Christy, who he was certain would have fainted from near heart failure at the implication of anything less than a five star restaurant or room service at the Ritz Carlton, and even then she still would have found something to complain about.

"I grew up eating in places like this." Nancy smiled, careful not to give any more details than needed about her past. The sight of the diner sparked a memory of being ten years old and sitting in a booth snacking on fries, for the third meal in a row, her mother having gone outside to have a conversation with a man about a job. A tall unshaven slovenly, fellow who had been scratching his crotch in the corner booth had approached her, a broken grin allowing Nancy a good glimpse of his rotting teeth. Nancy could still remember the fetid stench that emanated from the man. It was a combination of sweat and alcohol. He had tried to talk to her, tried to tell her what a pretty little girl she was, he'd even tried to slide into the booth beside her, but had been yanked out and thrown out on his ass by the waitress.

Nancy remembered _her_ too, a portly gal with a voice like a man _and_ hands like a man. Nancy remembered how afraid she had been to finish her fries, afraid to be alone while her drunken mother was draped all over the man outside. Mostly, Nancy remembered how the waitress had made it all better with a slice of apple pie on the house and the promise that she had her eye out. She'd been able to relegate the ugly memory into its place on the dusty shelf of her mind, until just now.

Dave couldn't deny the faraway look in her eyes. He wondered what she was thinking of. He noticed how she chewed her lip nervously and then he spoke low and softly. "Hello…"

"I was just remembering how all diners smell the same." She smiled and snapped out of the trance, donning the mask of secrecy. "I think I'm about ready for that burger."

As if reading her mind, the waitress emerged from behind the counter and approached the booth. Her face was kind, but she had a distinct air of spunkiness. Her very red hair, which reminded Nancy of what Christy's might look like in a few more years, was pulled into a high ponytail. Her eyes were clear and alert, a deep cobalt that sparkled hinting to a certain wisdom, as if she knew a secret that no one else knew.

"I haven't seen you in months." Her voice was steady, though it was heavily accented with a southern drawl that Nancy suspected might be embellished a tiny bit.

"Did you miss me?" Dave returned her smile and waved away the menus that she was about to offer.

"Not one damned bit." She replied saucily and then turned to smile at Nancy. "And who is _this_ lovely young lady?" She waited patiently until Dave answered.

"This is Nancy." Was all Dave cared to say, knowing that the suspense would drive the waitress crazy. It was apparent that the two had a playful friendship, despite the fact that the woman was probably pushing forty-five years old.

The waitress eyeballed Dave as if she desired a better explanation of who 'Nancy' _really_ was. Not having any luck gleaning more than a name from him, she sighed and spoke. "I think you probably want what you always have." And after his smooth nod, she turned to Nancy, appraising her slender build, and asked. "I bet you want a salad, don't you sweetheart?"

After their food had been ordered, the two of them sat in relative silence for a moment before Dave broke the ice, finally speaking. "So what do you do in your free time besides chasing buses?"

Nancy found the jest amusing, despite the fact that he spoke the truth. "That's all I do...I mean, literally…I mend some clothing at one venue, and then I race to get on the bus with everyone else before the next one." She clicked her fingernail on the salt shaker. "I've only been with the WWE for about 5 months I still haven't figured out how to manage my free time very well." She laughed, and then explained how she did design work for other people on the side.

"You're not married." Dave observed pointing to her ring finger which was bare.

"No, not yet…one day maybe, when I get some free time." The comment drew her eye to Dave's left hand which was also unadorned, save the slight indention that indicated he had once worn a ring on his ring finger. Nancy had known from gossip around the WWE that he had been married at one time, but she hadn't delved into it deeper. "And you?"

Dave shook his head. "Divorced…still friends though. We get along very well, considering everything, and I think it's a big help to our daughters that we stay civil." He glanced around the diner casually. "So you and Max…you two seem pretty attached…any clue as to why he left you tonight?"

"I don't think that he left me on purpose…he had been saying that he was exhausted for a few hours tonight, I'll bet he laid back in that bus seat and passed out." Nancy smiled and said.

"_Yeah_, I'll bet he did." Dave stated, not caring to try and hide the slight air of sarcasm. He could see that she held a fondness for Max, and decided against telling her that he suspected Max had fully intended to leave her at the arena, having seen 'Dear old Max' peeking out of the bus window when her back was turned. As close as the two were, Nancy probably wouldn't believe it anyhow. "Have you known him long?"

Nancy nodded. "Well I've known him a couple of years, even though we've only worked together on RAW for about five months." She explained. "I met him by accident…which seems to be the story of my life…I'm either always in the wrong place at the wrong time, or maybe I'm just lucky and I can't yet recognize it."

"I'm not following." Dave gave her a confused glance.

"I met Max in the court house parking lot…he was paying on a speeding ticket and I was being dismissed from jury duty." She gestured with her hands. "I was pulling out this way and he was pulling out that way…and we slammed into each other." She laughed. "We both got tickets for the fender-bender, but when he heard me telling the officer that I worked for a drapery shop, he offered me a job as a seamstress with the interior design pool."

"Design pool? Sounds like hell." Dave surmised, envisioning a populace of struggling seamstress in a dark room, tangled in tape-measurers their sole mission; waiting on an assignment.

"Like a typing pool, you know where receptionists get passed from person to person…same thing…we got passed from designer to designer." Nancy 'flip-flopped' her hand in explanation.

"You went from the frying pan into the fire with these Divas, then."

"No way…Divas, I can handle." Nancy said, her face a mask of feigned dread. "Try dealing with a designer, who's just had her third double espresso, is five days behind schedule already and just realized that she gave you the wrong measurements for a set of $3000 drapery panels." Nancy shuddered at the memory of the real-life experience. "Divas are a cake-walk."

Dave chuckled. He liked her way of passing off a bad experience with humor…she was good at making light of things that didn't go her way. "Explain how you were hired for the WWE."

"That was Max's doing too." Nancy gave her huge teddy bear buddy the credit. "He found the ad on an exclusive website, jacked my dossier from human resources and sent it in along with his. Long story short…we got the call back and were hired as a team."

"Max really seems to take things in hand, doesn't he?" And though he couldn't figure why, Dave felt a little irritated at the thought of Max steering Nancy's ship without her knowledge. He knew by now, that the incident tonight involving Christy Hemme had been a vendetta of Max's own design.

"Well, he is a bit forward, and sometimes it turns out to blow up in his face, but he means well…you know that whole thing about 'best laid plans' or whatever." She shook her head. "I suppose you know about the occurrence with Christy tonight, then?"

Nancy was almost afraid to ask. She bit her lip and prepared for a scolding.

"I do." Was Dave Batista's cursory response. And though his answer was straightforward, his eyes held a twinkle and his voice indicated no malice. "Maybe she asked for it…and _maybe_ she'll think twice before she rips into someone again."

Nancy couldn't have been more surprised if he had just sprouted another head. She was fairly perplexed by the fact that he hadn't rebuked her for the incident and that he had not jumped to the outspoken Diva's defense, especially since she'd already gotten the idea that the two had been sleeping together.

"Don't get me wrong…" He continued. "I'm not into the whole revenge thing…unless it's in the ring, but maybe Max was right on with this one."

Nancy couldn't understand why she was suddenly elated to know that he didn't blame her for the shirt catastrophe. A part of her would have been disappointed if he had thought that she were responsible for it. Before anything more could be said, the waitress arrived with two baskets, each piled to the top with fries, and a huge half-pound cheese burger.

Nancy's eyes grew wide with surprise as the platter of greasy food was set before her. "Oh my God…you have no idea how long it's been since I had a burger this big." Her mouth watered in anticipation, as the chocolate shake was placed on the table.

"Hope you brought your Tums, honey." The waitress smiled and placed a fresh bottle of ketchup in between Nancy and Dave, and then with curiosity getting the better of her, she turned to Nancy and asked, "Now how is it that you two know each other?"

Nancy couldn't resist starting a little controversy. "I don't really know him at all…" She shrugged. "I just fixed his shirt for him." And then Nancy looked with interest at Dave, "What did you say your name was again?"

The waitress was taken a tiny bit aback and then with a naughty glimmer in her blue eyes, she smiled and placed the ticket directly in front of Dave. She turned her amused eyes on Nancy. "That…sweety, is how I met my first husband." She winekd knowingly and walked away.

Dave couldn't resist the impulse to laugh out loud. He was slightly swollen with pride because Nancy had made it seem as though there was something going on when there wasn't. It flattered him.

He watched Nancy shake her head laughing and dip a French fry in the pool of ketchup. "Well, if that's all it takes to end up married, then what do I do with all those bouquets I've caught at weddings?" She chomped the fry. "What a waste of flowers."

"You could always design an outfit and integrate them into it, somehow." Dave suggested lightheartedly as he lifted the bun off of his burger, to spread mayo on it.

"You know…that's an idea…" Nancy replied, feigning surprise. "I've got enough of them that I could design an entire spring, fashion line-up."

Feeding off of her wit, Dave threw in another jest. "We could have a fashion show right on RAW and we could call it _Always a Bridesmaid_…" He slashed his hand from side to side in the air to indicate a banner or marquis.

Nancy chuckled. "You think I'm joking…I really do have my own 'dried flower heaven' stashed away in a box somewhere…I could probably stock the floral aisle of a craft store."

Dave had to admit that it felt nice not to have someone either hanging on his every word like a slobbering puppy or complaining about everything in arms reach and beyond. He was laughing and joking and having a good time, and surprisingly, he wasn't even thinking about sex. It made him happy that he could discuss something besides wrestling or money or senseless gossip.

"So you said you have daughters?" Nancy asked as she bit into the last of her burger. "How many?"

Nodding, Dave explained that he had two daughters and pulled his wallet from his pocket. "These are my girls." He announced, his voice softening with affection.

She noticed how he smiled warmly as he handed over the crisp, leather _Dolce & Gabbana_ wallet. Nancy eyed the first of the pictures, in which there was a lovely teenaged girl standing next to his Ferrari, holding a large white poster board with painted red letters that spelled the words _'Keys, Daddy, Please!'_ Dave explained how his oldest daughter Vanessa had just turned fourteen the day the photo had been taken and his ex-wife had put her up to holding the sign. "She's taking driver's ed, now…so maybe when she's 30 I'll trust her enough to let her behind the wheel."

Nancy flipped the plastic covered photo over and stared at the next one. "This little girl looks like she's a little bit mischievous." Nancy surmised. Audrey was posing with a pony behind a fence and even though the photo appeared to be professionally taken, Nancy admired the candid quality of it. The playful glint in the girl's eye was not muted in the slightest by the photographer's attempt to pose her. Dave wasn't surprised that Nancy had noticed Audrey's impishness, and he tilted his head and admitted how she had talked him into letting her come home with the pony.

The next picture was of Dave and his girls in a swimming pool. Obviously they had been trying to dunk him and even though Nancy knew he was far too strong to be submerged by mere children, she appreciated the fact that he was allowing them to get the better of him. Both girls were climbing on him as if he were a jungle gym and his expression was one of mock terror, his chin barely above the water.

Nancy smiled…not enough could be said for having good parents…that, she knew for sure. "Kids keep you young." she admitted in a wistful tone.

Her comment was not off handed or hollow. He had seen the way her eyes almost glazed over when she said it, as if she longed for it to be the truth in someone's life, even if it wasn't in her own. Dave remembered how he'd overheard Christy telling Maria that she wasn't ready for kids, that being around them was good for publicity, but it made her feel old. He'd just assumed that most single women felt the same way, but to hear Nancy say something that hinted at a soft spot for children struck him speechless. She recognized what others did not…what he knew in his heart to be true…that his kids were the one thing that made him feel young again, especially in a sport where age was becoming a factor.

He was puzzled by her, unable to figure her out and determined to try like hell anyway. He had watched the 100 pound girl cut her burger into quarters, and very politely devour the entire thing, piece by ladylike piece. He was amazed that she even had room to polish off the fries. Dave was decidedly curious as to why Nancy had an air of hopefulness and how she was able to retain it, being as she had, by her own admission, possibly the worst timing of anyone alive, and was without a doubt, the most accident prone person in the WWE. That reality alone would be enough to make any normal person depressed but oddly, it didn't affect her that way. There was more depth in this woman than in all of the Divas that had thrown themselves into his lap as of late. Her laugh was true, her smile wasn't staged and her innocence was breaking him down.

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Max leaned back as he flipped Nancy's cell phone over in his hands, delighted that his plan had gone off without a hitch. Hiding Dave Batista's duffel bag in Eric Bischoff's office had been a stroke of genius, giving a window of opportunity for his delay and yet not endangering Dave's possessions and thus invoking his wrath. It had also been like taking candy from a baby when he'd palmed Nancy's handbag and surreptitiously left it on the table in the dark. He hated to have to be so devious, and it certainly hadn't been his original plan. The idea hadn't struck him until he had seen the way the two reacted toward one another when they had been face to face several nights ago. Max wasn't stupid, he knew attraction when he saw it and hell, if he could kill two birds with one stone, then who was he to impede the inevitable? He could create an opportunity for Dave Batista and Nancy to develop a friendship…maybe more and he could spite Christy Hemme at the same time. It was pure brilliance…as long as it didn't backfire.

He was relieved that Nancy hadn't seen him, even after the air-headed bus driver had flipped on the interior light when Nancy's shoe had hit the back window of the bus. Max was still shocked that the bus driver had believed him when he stammered to explain that Nancy was not in need of a ride, the two of them had been in an argument and Nancy was too pissed off to get on the bus. "That's why she threw the shoe." Max had explained. "Shut off the light!" He had hollered, annoying the others on the bus. He had nearly been seen.

Max knew that Nancy would be safe if he left her, he had witnessed Batista coming out of the door of the arena after Nancy had come running out. His timing had been perfect, and when he'd seen Dave's slick, silver Ferrari come roaring past the bus, with a female silhouette in the passenger seat, he had known that everything would pan out, nicely. Now as for the middle finger that Dave had held up as he had passed…that was a mystery, unless…he had seen Max, or he knew that Max had contrived the whole thing…or maybe he was just pissed that he had to give someone a ride, but Max doubted that. Besides he knew Nancy well enough to know that she would _never_ have asked Dave Batista for a ride, and that if she were in the car with him, it was because he had offered.

Before he could ponder the state of affairs any longer, Vicki the make-up artist flopped down into the bucket seat beside him as the bus rumbled down the highway toward the hotel.

"So, are you having fun playing match-maker?" She quirked a perfectly groomed eyebrow as she brushed a stray piece of fuzz from her navy blue pants.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Max said firmly, eyeing her as if she were a stain on a prized piece of textile.

"Hhmm…" She nodded as if she believed him, but still sat without speaking for a moment.

"Is there something you need?" He asked impatiently.

She let out a tiny laugh and stared at him. "You know something?" She began, "You're not the best looking guy on RAW, and you're damn sure not the most eligible bachelor I've come across…but you're a good friend."

Max narrowed his eyes skeptically, but said nothing.

"A girl can recognize things like what you did tonight…and I just wanted to say…that I think you really are a good friend to Nancy, but you should be careful about your approach."

"Like I said…I don't have a clue as to what you're referring." Max felt it incumbent to keep up his charade of innocence.

"Look, all I'm saying is that if a little old make-up chick can see what your up to…then it's conceivable that a particular flame-haired Diva might be able to figure it out as well…I would hate for you to be looking in the wrong direction in the middle of a battle…some of these superstars are far more depraved than you would believe." Vicki smiled good-naturedly and stood up to leave…Max stopped her, by holding gently to her sleeve.

"Thanks." It was all he could manage, but it was enough, for Vicki leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of his head, and then leaving Max utterly thunderstruck, she made her way back to her seat.


	11. Chapter 10

Uncommon Sense Chapter 10  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"There are two dilemmas that rattle the human skull: How do you hang on to someone who won't stay? And how do you get rid of someone who won't go?"

_The War of the Roses _

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Christy huffed and bounced impatiently, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as the phone rang, unanswered from the other end.

"God dammit…" She mumbled as she slammed the phone back onto the receiver with undue force and dug through the front pocket of her low-slung jeans for another round of silver change. She had called Dave twice already and had merely been directed to voice-mail. For the past few nights, he had been making every excuse known to man, not to be available when she needed a ride, save for tonight when she'd been the one excusing herself. He had not been staying in the same hotels that the rest of the RAW roster usually collectively checked into. He hadn't even been considerate enough to return her phone calls. He'd even had excuses for that too… _"My phone went dead…"_ _"I was trying to call my daughters and didn't want to get disconnected from them." "I had it on 'vibrate only'. I can't believe I didn't feel it go off."_ The list of reasons was endless.

Christy was tired of the justifications and tired of the insinuations from Triple H that Dave was seeing someone else. She plunked the shiny quarters into the pay-phone and dialed the number on the tiny piece of paper that Triple H had handed her at the arena. One glance over her shoulder told her that Maria was still waiting for her, in the front seat of the rented Buick Regal. Maria was somewhat like a brainless dog…Christy assumed that by the time she got done with her call and back into the car, Maria might just be realizing that she had been gone. Her fingers hit the last two numbers forcefully and then she rubbed the toe of her black high heeled boot against the metal floor of the phone booth, purposely making a black mark.

"Come on…pick up." She bit her lip impatiently as the phone rang more than ten times. At the very moment she was about to hang up, Triple H picked up the line.

"It's about time you called." He said derisively.

"Well, I'm stuck with Maria tonight, thanks to you!" She snapped, casting another desperate look over her shoulder. "I'm sure you can imagine how long it takes to do _anything_ when she's around!"

"Oh, that's right…" He laughed. "How is the _'Bobble Head Doll'_ anyway?"

Christy was just about ready to roar. "You said you had a _plan_…" She cut to the chase.

"I do and I assure you that you're gonna have a big part in it." He sat on the edge of the bench inside the sauna.

"Quit beating around the bush and just come out with it." Christy demanded angrily.

"Well…" He said as he poured another scoopful of water on the hot coals. "I am sure you know that as part of a greater plan of my dear wife's…I have been reduced to the objectionable task of working behind a desk in the corporate offices."

This time it was her turn to laugh. "Yeah, I did hear something about that…I think maybe it was a ploy so that she could keep her eyes on you."

"Yeah, very funny…obviously it's not my first career choice…but I think it's probably just as easy to navigate from the driver's seat as it is from the passenger seat."

"You're coming to a point sometime soon, I hope." Christy scraped her thumbnail across a button on her short denim jacket, resisting the impulse to snap it off and throw across the parking lot.

"I want back in that fucking ring!" He thundered so loudly it made Christy jump. "Is that plain enough for you, or do I need to give you a phonics lesson?"

"Just tell her you want back in the ring…what does that have to do with my problem." Christy was beginning to wonder why she had called him in the first place.

"Well, now that brings us to the point that you were so eagerly seeking." He leaned back, letting the steam calm his fraying nerves. "Our problems are inexorably intertwined. You see…the only way you'll know which way _I_ need _your_ help, and which way _you _need _my_ help, is if you ask yourself one critical question."

Christy felt a chill trickle up her spine, as she cradled the phone next to her ear. "What question?" Her voice had fallen to a tone of timidity and she had to admit, that she was somewhat fearful.

"Do you want Dave Batista or do you want a Champion?" He asked. "Now before you answer, take some time to think about the question…if you want a _Champion_, then you might as well just hang up right now and go after John Cena, because if I have things my way, Dave won't be holding that belt much longer…but if you want Dave…truly want Dave…and would take him as he would be without a job as a wrestler, without the accolades, the cars…the money, _then_ we can talk."

She thought about what he had said. There was no way that Dave would be asked to leave the WWE and even if he were, she wouldn't have to worry about money. Surely he had been smart enough to put back at least some of what he had made over the last few years, hadn't he? She knew that if Triple H did regain the championship belt, she would never be at his side…he would never leave _The Billion Dollar Princess_ and besides, Christy didn't feel for him the way she felt for Dave. If she was really truly out for the glory that would come with being the girlfriend or fiancé of a champion, the perks, the career advantages, then John Cena was the one to run to, because he currently held a belt, albeit an inferior Championship. No, it was Dave…she had wanted him the minute she had seen him…or rather had seen his potential. Christy had known he would be great, had known he would end up as a champion and she had lain in wait for his already troubled marriage to crumble. Christy had sidled in there like a cure for a disease, softening the blows with her words and filling the void with her sex…and even now as she stood here, she could see that he was slipping away from her.

Christy couldn't let all of her hard work go to waste…she had to hold on until she knew that there was nothing left, and if she had it her way…she could turn the tables and end up beside Dave Batista, on top of the WWE once more. "I guess I want Dave…" She answered in little more than a whisper.

"I'm glad that you made the right decision." Triple H smiled cynically. "I'll call you on your cell tomorrow around noon and we'll talk."

"Wait a minute!" Christy spat. "You said you had a plan, and now after I decide I wanna help you, you won't tell me?"

He supposed he could give her a little hint, a morsel of Intel. "My first plan was to have him fired by planting steroids in his bag, but then it occurred to me that Vince would wanna test him first." He laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

Christy rolled her eyes. Even _she_ would have realized that much.

"So then I decided that the best way to get rid of him was to have him injured." Triple H examined one of his fingernails as he spoke. "But Dave is too smart for that…He's put up firewalls of sorts in his contract. I can't get a rematch with him if my life depended on it."

She was beginning to have second thoughts about the whole thing, when she realized that his position as champion was in peril via a possible future injury. "I don't know about this." She said slowly.

"Just _listen_." He commanded. "_Then_ after what I found out less than an hour ago, I decided that the best way to hurt someone like Dave is by proxy, because otherwise he would see it coming…he's smarter than he looks."

"I'm confused." Christy admitted.

"Why does that not surprise me…here let me speak slower so you can get it the first time." Triple H shook his head. "Have you ever heard of a whipping boy?"

"No."

"Back in the day when slavery was legal," He described. "It was the custom that when one of the Master's children didn't obey, or when the Master's wife didn't obey…the Master would have a young male slave tied to a post. He would have the children or his wife brought out to witness the slave boy being whipped."

Christy couldn't help but grimace as she listened to his vivid descriptions of the things that would be done to the whipping boy.

"Usually this treatment would go on until the master got what he wanted…until everyone consented." He said in a tone that could only be described as emotionless.

"I don't see how this is supposed to help us." Christy began to become impatient.

"I found our whipping boy…or _girl_, rather. I have the means to make sure that Dave's fall from grace happens harder and sooner than you think." Triple H chuckled. "I have it on good authority that he didn't leave the arena alone tonight." He waited for the news to sink in.

"What are you talking about?" She felt panic begin to rise like a hot air balloon in her chest.

"I know for a fact that he gave our sweet, little, innocent, _Wardrobe_ manager a ride."

"What?" Christy felt her mouth go dry as the panic turned to anger.

"Seems like she lagged behind and missed her bus…and Dave, who just _happened_ to be coming out late also…saw her dilemma and saved the day."

"I'm sure he did it out of obligation…" She said her voice beginning to increase in pitch. "He's a nice guy. I'll bet he just didn't want to be responsible if she got hurt or…something, besides I bet he's here in Dallas at the hotel waiting for me."

"Sure…" Triple H remarked enjoying her apparent dread, waiting for the explosion he knew was imminent.

"I mean…I could see how _she_ probably planned it…but I guess he just…just was trying to be nice. I mean, they're not even friends…he wouldn't do anything to hurt me…he's just being chivalrous is all." Christy stammered, teetering on the brink of hysterics. Prickling hot tears formed behind her eyelids. If what Triple H had said was true, then this was the _second_ time in the same night that she had been bested by her new enemy.

"Sure…" He said again, knowing the damage he'd inflicted and relishing the new alliance he could see forming in his mind's eye as she spoke. "Keep telling yourself that…maybe you can have that little mantra engraved on the plaque you present them at their wedding."

"There is _no_ way that he is seeing her behind my back!" Her frantic words were laced with acid. "What the fuck does he think he's gonna get from her, that he hasn't already gotten from me!"

"I've known Dave for a long time and I can tell you one thing, now that he is unattached, he's got more than just _you_ hoping to latch onto him and be the next '_Mrs. Bautista'_." He continued to twist the knife. "He's gonna get pretty sick of having to fight off the masses…and trust me…he's gonna start looking for a long term gal, if you know what I mean. I would hate for that to be someone else, simply because you didn't have the balls to fight for what is rightfully _yours_. And I have to admit, this little gal is just innocent enough and cute enough and pliable enough for him to mold into whatever he wants. In fact…If I were a rich man looking for someone I could marry and drag around to fend off gold-diggers…she's exactly the kind of girl I would choose." He knew that riling Christy would help cement the alliance.

A tear fell down her cheek and she swiped it away with the sleeve of her shirt. "What do I have to do?" She asked, giving in to his need for an ally, and giving in to the hated prospect of being someone else's slave.

"You have to let them finish what they've started." He said, squinting in preparation for the verbal blast. He didn't have to wait long.

Christy unloaded on him with a vocal melee like none he had seen since Stephanie's old days. Four letter words were spewing out of her like vomit out of a possessed person, and he could barely get a word in edge wise.

"Calm down and listen to me…" He interjected. "Let me explain it so it will make sense or you'll just misconstrue everything and we'll be back in the same damned boat we're in now!" A look of irritation crossed his face and he threw another ladle full of water on the coals. "Obviously there is some interest there with _her,_ or he would be with you right now, right?"

Christy was on the verge of kicking the glass out of the front of the phone booth, but she settled her temper and listened. "I told you, they aren't even friends, but if that's what you think, then go on…"

"Well, I'm sure that he's called you, _right_?" Triple H knew the question had found its mark when she hesitated. "You must've talked to him already tonight, right?"

"No…" She said. "Not exactly."

"Okay then, shut up and listen." He knew what Dave Batista was up to, he'd seen the man do it time and again to girls with whom he'd had one night stands. He would make excuses until Christy got the hint because he was too nice to just come out and tell her. "He's obviously taken with her…he sees something in her he wants and you just have to let it run its course."

"Then where does that leave me, huh?" Christy inquired on the verge of tears. "I'm just supposed to let them fall in love and for what?"

"Because he's not in love with _you_…You still don't get it do you? She's the whipping boy…let the two of them get close and _then_ hurt her. In the process it hurts him…you get what _you_ want and I get what _I _want." He explained. "It's not about physical injuries at least not yet…just trust me…you just be ready to pick up Dave when he falls and then you'll end up looking like the hero."

He stifled another attempt at an objection. "Now the first thing you need to do is to set up a meeting with Chris Jericho, and you give him this little tidbit of information, and then you be prepared to meet up in Bischoff's office afterward."

Triple H began to explain to Christy how he'd seen Max throw Jericho's keys in the trash can after the clumsy run-in with Nancy. The two began to formulate a plan, the first of many small battles to win in the war in which they now found themselves embroiled.

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"Here's your key." Dave Batista said cheerfully as he ducked back into the driver's seat of his Ferrari and handed the plastic door card to Nancy. "Your room was under Max's name."

"Thank you." She accepted the key and slid it into the tiny handbag. She was appreciative that he had offered to get her key when he checked himself in.

"So you two share a room?" He felt a tiny stab of jealousy even though he knew the two were merely friends…and he didn't know why.

"We have since we started going on the road, he's a gentleman, plus there are two beds and it makes it cheaper in the long run." Nancy explained and then after an awkward pause, she turned to him and said. "Thank you…for the ride…and the burger." She smiled and tucked her handbag under her arm.

"You're welcome." His voice was deep and soft, the way she had come to like it. It reminded her of calm waters.

"I really had a good time tonight…I haven't laughed this much since…well, since Max fell over the trunk a few nights ago…but I really had a great time." She admitted as she tried to avoid his piercing stare.

"It was my pleasure." He didn't mean for the comment to sound so provocative, she was certain, but it did and the sound of it caused a tremor to course through her belly. He cleared his throat after the silence. "We should probably go in now."

"Definitely…" Nancy agreed, sighing. "I'm really looking forward to a hot shower and some cold sheets." She stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her.

Dave followed behind her until they reached the glass front doors of the hotel he then stepped in front of her so that he could open the door. He noticed that she seemed uncomfortable with his politeness as if she'd somehow expected him to behave otherwise. The two entered the elevator, with Dave bound for the fourth floor and Nancy for the third floor. The doors closed and she leaned over shyly to glance at the watch on Dave's wrist, noting that it was almost five A.M.

"You'll still have time to catch a few Z's." He answered her unspoken query. "I doubt anyone else will be headed into town until around noon or one."

"Good, because Max is like a bull in a china shop when he shows up." She yawned as the doors of the elevator came open. "Well I guess I'll…be seeing you around."

"I'll just stand here and make sure you get in your room." Dave said forcing himself to stay rooted to the spot, his foot preventing the elevator from closing. _'Walk her to the door…'_ The inner animal tempted and Dave couldn't resist. He stepped from the interior of the elevator and watched the doors close behind him. "Just for safety reasons…I'll just walk you to your door." He knew it was a risk…he was smelling her perfume…seeing the way she fumbled through her handbag for the key, the way the strap of her delicate blouse had slid to the edge of her shoulder. He hadn't thought about any of this all night, but now the animal was whispering into his soul all of the things he should do…wanted to do to her.

"That's okay, you don't have to walk me." She said nervously, her hands trembling when she pulled the key out. "You've done so much already." Even as she backed up toward the door, with him advancing slowly, she knew she wanted him to follow, wanted something more. _'Idiot'_ she berated herself silently and turned her back on him to slide the key card into the lock.

The beast in the cage railed at him furiously and prodded. _'Tell her you haven't done **near** enough…tell her all the things you plan to do!'_ Dave exhaled and pulled his bag up in front of him as if it would somehow hold him back from pouncing. "Well, you're here safe." It was stupid he knew it. Her room was only steps from the elevator. She would have been fine without his help.

"Thanks…" She spoke so softly it was a whisper and then turning the lever she opened the door and nearly fell inside, closing it before she could give in to the temptation to let him follow. _'Thunk'_ she let her forehead fall against the door lightly, dropped her handbag on the floor and then turning, she ran and jumped onto the bed. Whipping a pillow from beneath the covers, she slammed it against her face and let out a frustrated shriek, kicking her feet against the bed like a giddy child.

The elevator doors closed once more, leaving Dave to himself for the short ride up one floor. He let the bag fall between his feet and lifting his face to the ceiling covered it with both huge hands. He let out a deep laugh. He was embarrassed and humiliated and growing an enormous erection all at the same time. He wanted her, there was no denying that. The problem was; he had no clue as to why he wanted her and no clue why he was behaving like a teenager on a date. _'I'll just make sure you're safe…'_ He mocked himself, laughing. _'Idiot..'_ he said to himself as the doors opened, revealing his floor. He held his bag in front of him as he exited the elevator to cover up the evidence of his desire, and then headed to his room for a cold shower.


	12. Chapter 11

Uncommon Sense Chapter 11  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Sometimes people carry to such perfection the mask they have assumed that in due course they actually become the person they seem."

**W. Somerset Maugham**, _The Moon and Sixpence_  
_English dramatist & novelist (1874 - 1965)_

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Dave Batista signed the credit card slip with a flourish and passed the pen back to the clerk, who smiled and tucked it into the metal drawer of the gift shop cash register.

"Is there anything else that I can do for you, sir?" The clerk batted her eyelashes and smiled at the tall, good-looking man in front of her. It gave Dave the impression that she would do more for him than just help out in the gift shop.

"Nope, that'll do it." He spoke rather noncommittally as he slid his credit card back into his wallet and turned to the concierge. "She's probably still asleep, so it might not hurt to knock a few times." He palmed a fifty dollar bill to the man dressed in a grey suit and tie, who nodded his appreciation and carried the large silver box topped with a large white bow out of the gift shop toward the elevators.

It was at that very moment that the absolute horror of what he had just done, came smashing headlong into Dave Batista like a freight train. He had just bought a woman a workout suit. It shouldn't have been a reason for concern, being as she had been abandoned without clothing and because he had been thinking of only _that_ very fact when he'd purchased the outfit. But it suddenly occurred to him that women generally had different ideas regarding a man's intent. What in the hell had he been thinking? And moreover, what in the hell would _she_ be thinking when she opened the box?

But the thick elevator doors were closing behind the concierge and it was too late for him to change his mind. He said a silent prayer. _'Please God, don't let her think I think she's fat.'_ He shook his head unable to piece together the shattered remnants of the puzzle that was becoming his recent existence. He had completely lost touch with how to gain a woman's affections. It had been ages since that had been required of him…women had been throwing themselves at him for so long he hadn't had to worry about the aspect of romance. Was that what this was? He shook his head as he tucked the newspaper under his arm and headed for the dining room.

_'You want her and you're a chicken shit!'_ there was the beast once more continually arguing with him, reminding him that he'd lost his courage with her, constantly repeating the unthinkable things that he could do if he'd just give in to it.

_'She's just a friend.'_ Dave reasoned silently as he let the hostess lead him to a table.

_'She's still a woman.'_ The beast growled.

His internal dialogue was tormenting him. He pulled the elegant chair out and sat down, allowing the hostess to place a menu in front of him. Dave ignored the ever persistent nagging inside of him, and prepared himself with a dozen or so viable reasons for having purchased a workout suit for a woman he barely knew, just in case she came roaring like a whirlwind into the hotel restaurant ready to wail on him.

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She barely heard the unrelenting knock, through the haze of her exhaustion. Somewhere, miles away echoing through a tunnel of weariness it came again…the repeated rapping. Nancy opened the one eye that would allow it and sat straight up. It could only be Max at this hour she thought, as she glanced at the clock. But then she realized it was only 8:15 AM and no way could it be Max, as he and the rest of the RAW roster would not be dragging in until around noon.

The knock persisted and Nancy, still fully clothed, pushed aside a fluffy pillow on the half-made bed and stumbled through the darkened room toward the door. "Hold on." She said groggily as she fumbled with the locks, scraping a knuckle on the wood in the process.

The door swung part way inward and the hall lights blinded Nancy causing her to grimace. The concierge eyed her disheveled appearance and then lifted the large box up so she could see it. "A package for you, Ma'am."

"Oh, um thanks…" Nancy squinted and reached out for the box. "Who from?"

"The gentleman filled out a card." The concierge pointed to the top of the package beneath the enormous bow. "Could you sign for it, please?" He asked kindly, lifting a small clipboard.

"Sure." She nodded, laying the box aside, and then signing the paper. She smiled, still groggy eyed and then remembered that it was customary to tip the bellboys and staff. "Oops, let me get you a tip." She fumbled around drowsily for her hand bag.

"No Ma'am, that won't be necessary. I've already been compensated." He smiled and turned to leave.

"Thank you." Nancy called out to him, as he headed back down the hallway.

She placed the package on the bed momentarily while she turned on the lights and then checked her appearance in the mirror over the dresser. "Yeesh." Nancy said noting that her normally soft curly hair now resembled something out of a Tina Turner video. She tugged the card from under the bow and timidly opened it. The small card was unadorned, save the elegant standard scripted words in silver relief on the front, that read _'A Gift For You'_. Inside the card was the strong round-hand in black ball point pen, reading:

'_Sorry if you didn't get much sleep, but the hotel restaurant stops serving breakfast at ten o'clock. See you there. – Dave'_

She smiled and slid the card back inside the envelope, opting to see what surprise was hiding in the box. She untied the bow, quickly setting it aside, and then lifted the lid, and pushed aside the delicate tissue paper, revealing a…workout suit? Nancy lifted the jacket and tank-top out of the box, and then the pants beneath it. It was black and white, nothing flashy about it…in a size 4, right on the money. There were even shoes and socks in the bottom of the box.

Nancy was confused. Chewing her bottom lip she laid the suit down on the bed and lifted her shirt to glance at the flat expanse of her tummy, and then turning, she took a peek at her rear end in the mirror. She didn't look like she'd gained weight, but here he was sending her a workout suit on the one hand, and then inviting her to consume some more food on the other. Maybe he was just as confused as she was, and shrugging her shoulders, she turned on the shower knob to full pressure. If she took a quick shower now, she could make it in time to have breakfast.

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The red and blue lights flashing intermittently in the rearview mirror were more than enough of a reason to send Christy Hemme into a flurry of four letter words. Maria Kanellis, however had only just now noticed the state trooper who had pulled them over.

"Were you speeding?" Maria asked, clueless to anything beyond the primping that she had been doing in the visor mirror for the past forty miles.

Incredulously, Christy glowered at Maria and then sighed. "No, I'm hauling a trunk full of Mexican refugees…Yes! I was speeding!" She slammed the rental car into park and pulled her purse from the floorboard.

Maria just smiled as the apparent joke floated away just beyond her realm of comprehension and continued to pluck her stray eyebrow hairs in the mirror.

The officer approached the car with a no-nonsense gait and tapped on the driver's side window with a curled knuckle. Christy who had already checked her lipstick in the mirror, pasted on the most dazzling smile she could muster, and pressed the power window button with one elegant nail.

"How are you?" Christy asked brightly as if she had known the officer for a lifetime.

"Do you know how fast you were going?" The trooper inquired, pulling his sunglasses off and clipping them to the pocket of his shirt.

It was apparent that he was going to be harder to manipulate than the average law enforcement officer. "Well, I believe it was 70 miles per hour…" Christy began, running her tongue over her lower lip and adopting a very innocent and demure comportment. "At least that's what I set the cruise control for."

"85…is about what you were going, ma'am." The officer stiffened his chin and pulled his ticket pad from his back pocket. "I need to see the rental car agreement…" he said as he pointed to the window sticker from the rental car company. "And I'll need your driver's license."

"Sure." Inside, Christy was incensed, but on the outside she remained calm as she pulled open the glove box to retrieve the rental contract. "You see, we were just on our way to a house show for the WWE…we're Divas." She announced, as she handed him the contract.

The officer looked at her without emotion or recognition and then he glanced at the contract, scribbling something on his notepad.

"Not a wrestling fan, huh?" She asked as she opened her wallet to pull out her license. It fell from her hands down in between her thighs. "Well, maybe you're a fan of Playboy, then…" She said, biting her lower lip seductively. "I had a _spread_ in that magazine awhile back." She gently opened her legs wider allowing him a tempting glimpse of her well tanned, well toned upper thighs. She reached between her thighs where the license had fallen and pulled it out slowly allowing him the maximum time to view. "Oh, that's where that silly little thing went." She smiled innocently.

The trooper maintained his rigid expression and snatched her license away with only his thumb and forefinger. "Ma'am, I am a Deacon at First Baptist Church in Grapevine Texas…" He scribbled furiously on his notepad. "And the _only_ thing I'm a fan of is people who go the speed limit." He ripped the ticket from his book, nearly mangling it in the process and handed it back to her with the license and rental contract. "Be back at the county court house in 12 days for your hearing." He announced. "Unless you plead 'no contest' by mail, and then you may pay the fine by mailing it in along with your plea and a copy of this ticket." He scowled at her and put his sunglasses back on. "You're free to go."

Christy waited until he was already headed back to his patrol car before she blew up. "Asshole!" The window was rolled up and she knew he couldn't hear her, but she glanced back none the less as he pulled away from the shoulder of the highway. She chanced a look at the ticket and the $190 fine.

Her lips formed a flat tight line of utter frustration as a roar of fury bubbled up in her throat. Her day was already turning out to be a bust. Five more calls to Dave's cell phone this morning had all gone unanswered and unreturned. He hadn't checked into the hotel in Dallas where the others on the roster had checked into last night and no one else seemed to know where he was. Triple H had let her know that Dave had left the arena with Nancy Adams, the bitch in _Wardrobe_, but he had never said anything about Dave not checking into the hotel. It was also very coincidental that a short inquiry by Maria, whom Christy had sent to Max's room with a broken zipper, had revealed that Nancy hadn't checked in either. She jammed the paper ticket into the side pocket of her purse and pulled away from the shoulder, resuming her trek to San Antonio.

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"Thanks." Nancy said to the desk clerk who pointed her in the direction of the busy hotel restaurant. She allowed the hostess to open the heavy gilt adorned door for her and she scanned the vast dining room. His size alone made him impossible to miss, but it was the stimulating sight of him, relaxed in the dining chair, casually reading the paper that made her heart skip a beat. The dangerous aura that he projected in the ring was clearly at odds with the vision he presented in linen khaki pants and a white pullover tunic style top, with the sleeves casually rolled up revealing his bronzed forearms.

She stood there, almost mesmerized, staring at him as the hostess asked if she could seat her. He was wearing a pair of glasses as he read, thin wire frames with equally thin lenses. His ebony hair was brushed back cleanly and he was freshly shaven except for the small line of whiskers that ran from the middle of his bottom lip down to the middle of his chin. He could have just as easily been the accountant from someone's wildest fantasy.

"I'm meeting someone…" Nancy murmured somewhat in a trance, finally able to catch her breath.

The hostess followed her line of sight, "Ah, it seems you've found him, then."

Nancy nodded and let the hostess lead her over to the table. She stopped just short of the table and Dave lifted his head. Smiling a bit hesitantly, he spoke. "Hey…I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn't wake me up…" Nancy said. "The bellboy did. Thank you for the outfit. You didn't have to do that."

He was prepared for her to say something snide, to blow up to take the whole thing wrong as Christy would have, but she didn't and it unsettled him. She looked great in the outfit, he had done well with guessing her size, but he could feel the heat rising to settle in his face, remembering how embarrassing his blunder was…though he'd not meant it to be.

"You picked it out, do you like it?" Nancy asked and spun around.

"Not really." He said grinning wickedly and then reaching out, he spun her around once more and slid his hand under the hem of the light jacket. One hand was on her slender hip, and the other was plucking the tag from the waist band of her pants.

"Now I love it." He quickly withdrew his hands and waited until she turned around a look of utter mortification etched on her face.

She couldn't believe she had been so foolish that she had left the tag on the clothing, but more than that, she couldn't believe he had been so brazen as to reach under the jacket to yank the tag off. Nancy could still feel the heat from where his hand had rested on her hip for a mere second.

He was smiling into his water glass as she sat down in the dining chair and she wondered what he must be thinking.

Suddenly she began to laugh lightly. It was like music to him, a soft laugh but slightly husky…It floated through his senses like a caress. "Wow, was that ever embarrassing, I guess I pay so much attention to other people's clothing, that I forget to do a 'once over' on my own." Nancy laid the crisp cream colored napkin in her lap just as the waiter returned to the table to ask for the drink order.

"Coffee…" she said, "Lots of coffee."

Dave waved away the idea of coffee in lieu of juice, and pulled his glasses off, folding the paper up and setting it aside.

"I never would have guessed you wore glasses." She smiled looking for anything to break up her nervousness, to take her mind off of the fact that she felt like she could sink through the floor.

"Only for reading." He told her, putting them in his front pocket. "I try not to wear them very often, it makes me look old." He took a sip of his water and appraised her fresh from the shower look. Her wet hair had been pulled up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, but a few small curls escaped at the side to frame her face. Despite the lack of sleep, her face was bright and slightly pink as if it had just been washed. He noticed the dark lashes that swept down to graze her cheek each time she blinked and the lips with the faintest hint of pink gloss…full and soft. He shook off the thought of what he was tempted to do with those lips and sipped his water again.

"It doesn't make you look old…" She said, narrowing her eyes in contemplation. "Makes you look wise." Nancy grinned. "Like Yoda or something, Mr. Miyagi maybe?"

He laughed, "Neither of them wore glasses."

"You know what I mean." She insisted and then snapped her fingers in revelation, pointing a finger at him. "Clark Kent…that's who it makes you look like."

The two of them debated suitable characters for a moment more before the waiter returned with coffee and juice and took the food order.

Nancy settled herself in the seat, glancing over the menu at the speed of light. "I'll have the 5-egg ham and cheese omelet with toast and a slice of country ham on the side…a bowl of oatmeal and half of a grapefruit." She snapped the menu shut with a contented sigh and waited for Dave to give his order.

Dave on the other hand, sat slack-jawed for a split second and then turning to the waiter he said, "I'll have what she's having."

The waiter who also appeared to be baffled by her appetite nodded without responding, turned and walked stiffly toward the kitchen.

"Just curious…" Dave knew he might be treading on thin ice with the question he was about to ask, but he couldn't help it. "Where, uh, where do you put all that food…you know when you eat?" He sat back, wondering if being slapped by a woman would hurt. "I mean, because I've seen grown men who don't eat like that."

He was relieved when she laughed and shook her head. "I don't know…I guess I've just always eaten like that." She failed to mention the fact that she had spent the better part of her childhood living off of left over scraps from the diner or the one meal that the school provided for her at lunch time and that she had been trying to make up for it ever since. "Is that why you bought me the gym clothes?" She asked, knowing that he had only intended to be nice by buying the clothing.

"No, I swear…" He said laughing as he chomped on a piece of ice. He held one hand up in the air as if to ward off any blows. "It was either that or an evening gown and I didn't think you'd want to traipse around in _Haute Couture_ until your suitcases showed up." He defended his action further, feeling the heat of a humiliated flush sweep over him. "I promise, I didn't mean anything by it, and I honestly thought that maybe it was the wrong decision, but I _swear_ I didn't intend for it to be an insinuation that you're overweight."

"I believe you." Nancy smirked. "I just wanted to see what kind of excuses you could come up with." She grinned. "You back-pedal pretty quick."

"Smart ass." He muttered, smiling and greatly relieved that she had seen past what his deed appeared to discover his true motive. He was enjoying every single second of her razor sharp wit and he liked the fact that she was such a multi-faceted person, it was going to be hard to figure her out, but well worth the effort. "You had me going, there for a minute." He wagged his finger at her, feigning reproach.

She laughed again, stirring the sugar into her coffee. "I know I did…but seriously, it was very nice of you to do it, so I'll treat you to breakfast."

"I already had them open the ticket under my room number. You can treat me another time." He announced. There it went again…the little slip of the tongue that forced him to think of her in ways he shouldn't be.

Nancy nodded, secretly preparing to leave at least the tip for the waiter.

"Well, so now that you have gym clothing…" He hinted. "Maybe you'd like to go to the gym with me, later…if you're not busy."

"Oh Gosh…" Nancy was a bit hesitant. "I never really work out much…I mean I should do it more, but I never really lifted a weight in my life and as you can tell, I only ever run when I'm being left behind."

He smiled at her humor, but persisted, knowing that he really didn't feel like being by himself for the rest of the day. "I'll help you…I mean I'll show you how to do it so that if you ever want to take it up as a past time, then you'll have a starting point."

Nancy agreed, thinking that if anyone knew what he was talking about regarding fitness, it was Dave Batista, and so the two planned to meet in the lobby at Eleven O'clock.

"So you never did tell me where you hail from." Dave said curious to know more about her.

The unexpected question, though innocent and uninvasive, made her nervous…it brought her back to the origin of her identity which was rooted in vagabondism. The only home that she had known after her father's murder was her mother's car, until her mother had settled with some out of work methamphetamine addict in Texas. She'd _never_ tell Dave that, though…it was better to pretend her past was rosy…it was easier to forget it if she could simply lie about it.

"Amarillo." She chewed on her straw, trying to think of ways to change the subject.

"I've been there with RAW, in May I think it was, of 2004? Nice place." He continued. "Do you have family there?"

He watched as she shook her head avoiding the captivity of his gaze. "My father passed away when I was 5…my mother is gone too." She said neglecting to mention that her mother was still alive and well, probably on the rat eaten sofa in the same trailer passed out in a drunken stupor, at this very moment.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Dave told her and he meant it. He presumed that the loss of her parents was the reason for her discomfort at the mention of family and home. "Do you have brothers or sisters?" Something deep and forbidding told him to stop, but he wanted to know more…wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

"I'm an only child." She smiled up at him. "I would have liked to have had a brother or sister though…it is sort of lonely without siblings…and imaginary friends never really answer back, so…" Her voice trailed off and she nearly scalded her throat as she took a gulp of her coffee, relieved that the waiter was returning with their food. The mountainous tray of steaming breakfast food was a fine excuse not to divulge anymore of her life and a damn fine reason to indulge before a workout.


	13. Chapter 12

Uncommon Sense Chapter 12  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"But seduction isn't making someone do what they don't want to do. Seduction is enticing someone into doing what they secretly want to do already."

**Waiter Rant**, _Waiter Rant weblog, 11-29-05_

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The suspense was very nearly killing Max and it was all he could do to keep himself planted in the plush cloth seat as the WWE bus rumbled down the road headed for San Antonio. He had dialed the number of the _Ambassador Hotel_ located by the _River Walk_ in San Antonio just minutes ago to check on the status of the room he had reserved. Had Nancychecked in yet, had been his inquiry. Max was disappointed to find out that she _had_ checked into the room that had been booked by him weeks ago. He was disappointed because what he had really hoped for was to find that she had checked into Dave Batista's room. He knew it was a long shot. Likely the two of them had shared a few words and parted company, but it was a nice thought anyhow. It was also, he had to admit, thrilling him beyond belief to know that Christy was eaten up by the whole damned thing!

Max had only just recently realized that his plan to spite the Diva had come together flawlessly. He'd discovered the true impact when Maria had come to his room last night, knocking and asking politely to see Nancy about a wardrobe malfunction. He knew that she had been sent by Christy and he relished the opportunity to obliterate the evil Diva's feelings. Max had been all too happy to share the sordid details of how he'd found out that Nancy had caught a ride from the arena with none other than Dave Batista, himself. Of course he'd had to preserve his lie and admit that he'd been asleep when the bus pulled away, but that he just _knew_ the two must have gone on to the next venue, _together_.

Max made a big deal out of the fact that Nancy had not checked in that evening, but surely Dave would make sure she was okay, maybe they even went clubbing or something, perhaps a quiet walk to talk about _things_. What things, he never would elaborate on. It was just the mere implication of something intimate brought on by Max's wild embellishments, which sent Maria's eyebrows into an upward arch of surprise, letting him know that he had done the desired amount of damage.

Dave and Nancy seemed to be getting along so well, that maybe the whole meeting _was_ intentional, at least that's what he attempted to convince Maria…just for the simple sake of seeing that the rumor he was fashioning would be sure to get right back to 'Dear old Christy'. He had made dead certain that everything he'd said implied that the two were involved in more than just innocent carpooling. The only thing Max regretted was not being able to see the look of sheer fury on Christy's face when she realized that her meal ticket had just ridden off into the sunset with the person that she currently hated the most.

Max glanced over at the seat next to him where Nancy would have been sitting and he sighed, a self satisfied expression on his face. He knew that _he_ would never be the one for Nancy, sure he loved her, but not in the way that you had to love someone to make a lasting relationship. He knew that they would be the best of friends forever, and he hated seeing her alone. No dates in the entire time he'd known her, save for the one she'd had with the semi-pro baseball coach from her home town, and _that_ had been a bigger disaster than the tsunami. Max had tried to set her up on several dates in the past few months, but she had refused to go on even one always making the excuse that she was too busy, too tired, or just had too much baggage…and until Dave Batista came along, he'd never even seen her take a second look at someone. It would be a shame to let this chance slip away because she wasn't assertive enough to take action.

_'I'm not meddling, just assisting.' _Max assured himself over and over. Nancy would never take the initiative herself and so she left him no choice, she'd forced his hand. His thoughts were interrupted by the gruff clearing of someone's throat. Max lifted his eyes and saw Vicki, his heart made a tiny flip-flop as he watched her sit down in the seat next to him without even asking.

"You seem unusually joyful." She remarked. "Lemme' guess, the hotel we're headed to boasts an all-you-can-eat buffet."

Max speared her with a glare. "You know, last night I thought we'd had a breakthrough, you and I." He shook his head in disgust. "And now as soon as I think I'm gonna _try_ to like you, then you go off and be your old bitchy self again."

Vicki laughed softly, and he noticed her tiny adam's apple bob up and down as she did so. "Don't be mad." She demanded gently. "I was only kidding."

Max softened up a bit. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Just thought I'd see how you were faring without your sidekick."

"Fine…I am a big boy, you know." He said preparing to dodge the barrage of insults or questions, whichever came first.

"Well there's no denying _that_ fact." She said smiling as she made reference to the fact that he was indeed a **_big_** boy.

"I guess I stepped right into that one." He admitted as a grin drifted across his face. "But at any rate, _if_ the hotel does have an all-you-can-eat buffet, would you care to join me for lunch? You look like you could use a sandwich." He gave her thin waif-like frame a once over as he asked the question, half tempted to retract the offer if she got haughty.

"Only if you'll grant me the opportunity to purge afterward…I'd hate to have to gain a pound." She joked, "So then it's a date?"

He was speechless, that she had even accepted his offer of lunch, but he nodded his acknowledgement.

"I'll meet you at the buffet line after I check in." Vicki punched him lightly on the shoulder and made her way back to her seat to ride out the one hour remainder of the four and a half hour trip.

Now, as confusing as it all was, Max had to admit he was flattered at the very least. It was perplexing that Vicki would be hurling insults at him with deadly accuracy one day and then making attempts to be his friend the next. Maybe she had just come to appreciate the way he took care of Nancy. Girls liked that sort of thing, men who stood up for women. You could always get away with having bad looks if you were chivalrous, at least that's what he liked to think.

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The sound of weight machines clanking and the clattering of free weights being racked, as well as the loud pumping of a techno beat filled her ears the moment she stepped from the Gold's Gym foyer into the main workout area. The combination of ambient noises was deafening at the very least. The harsh glare of the overhead lights beamed down like spotlights illuminating muscle bound beasts, willow thin treadmill addicts and middle aged people trying to suck in a gut. The gym was a smorgasbord of different ethnicities and varied social backgrounds all melded together without discrimination. She walked behind _him_ timidly, suddenly afraid, realizing that she was not at _all_ in her element…she was in _his_. She felt the same way she had most of her young life…in the wrong place, at the wrong time…doing the wrong thing. Glancing to the left and right, she could see the beauties, all of the women that had been doing this for so long that their lithe athletic bodies seemed to mesh seamlessly with the equipment. It reminded her once again of how truly plain she felt she was.

He'd seen it, the look of dread that she was trying to hide. Dave knew she was hesitant at best and he felt a tremor of guilt. He hadn't meant to force her to do something she wasn't comfortable with…he'd just wanted to show her something new. Sensing her discomfort, he decided not to make her wait all alone while he went into the men's locker room to lock up his bag, instead he left the bag behind the trainer's desk, allowing them to keep their eye on it for him. He held both bottles of water in one hand, his and hers and then he led her to the treadmills and elliptical trainers.

"We have to warm up before we can lift, so you don't tear a muscle." He pointed to the machines in front of them, and then laid a hand-towel over her shoulder.

"You're gonna make me lift weights?" Her voice was barely loud enough for him to hear, and he knew that she was feeling inferior to many of the women already on the machines.

"You could just try it." He suggested softly and then was relieved when she hitched her chin up in a subconscious act of bravery and nodded. He smiled and told her. "Let me show you how to use this."

The pair finished up their run and Nancy followed behind him as he walked, head held high toward the weights. She noticed that he never ducked his head, never acted as if he were unsure of himself. He walked as if this place had been made for him and him alone. The stares didn't seem to bother him either, but _she_ on the other hand felt like her hand-towel would be better used to cover her face up with.

Dave Batista weaved in between the machines, noting the curious looks from various people. They knew who _he_ was, he was sure of that. He was also sure that they probably wondered who in the world was with him. Dave realized that he _wanted_ people to wonder who he was with. And he was glad that no one knew her, recognized her. It wasn't like going somewhere with Christy. Having posed for PlayBoy magazine, Christy clearly had shown it _all_, there was nothing to the imagination anymore, not his and not anyone else's. Maybe that's why he was so eager to spend his time with Nancy, because she was like a puzzle, something he hadn't figured out, hadn't seen all of…yet.

He could sense her hesitation and he stopped, turning to make sure Nancy hadn't run away. He grinned as he watched her, with her head barely lifted up, trying to avoid looking at all of the other, well built, well-endowed women near the weight rack. It reminded him of how she had looked when she spilled the coffee all over Christy. He remembered that if not for her habit of looking down instead of ahead of her, then they likely would never have even met.

"Don't chicken out now." He encouraged in that same low voice she was quickly getting used to and then grabbing the other end of the towel in her hand. Like a rope he used it to tug her gently toward the rack. He pointed her toward a flat bench, and then proceeded to give her instructions on how to perform dumbbell presses. He handed her light weights and made several adjustments to the weight until he felt she had the best amount of poundage for her size. It wasn't until she lay down on the bench below him her face looking up at him in veiled apprehension that he began the battle with the beast all over again.

She had taken the jacket off and now her olive complexion was in full view. He couldn't help but admire the soft warm tone of her skin and the tiny shoulders and arms. He could also see just enough of her cleavage to start his blood boiling. He noticed how her flat tummy tapered down into a lean waist which in turn flared out softly into slender hips. Dear God, the last thing on his mind was working out. He swallowed deeply to keep his composure as he lifted the weights into her open palms, and then leaned over to assist her in the movement of the dumbbell press.

"Push up fast, but lower the weights slowly, there you go." He instructed. "Turn your wrists at the top of the motion and make sure you hold the muscles as you do the movement." Dave touched his own upper pectorals. "These muscles…make sure you press them together as you push upward." He had half a mind to touch her chest to show her how to do the exercise, but he knew if he got started he'd never stop. "Breathe out on the upward press and inhale as you start to come down, then exhale and explode back upward again."

Nancy obeyed silently as he showed her how to do several more exercises. They were new and difficult and she felt self conscious, but he continued to reassure her that no one in this gym looked like a bodybuilder or fitness competitor on their very first visit. He hefted the much larger weights for his own exercise off of the rack, and then winking slyly, he suggested she spot him.

"You gotta be kidding me." Nancy said rolling her eyes as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"I am." He grinned and began to perform _Arnold Presses_ with the heavy weights, holding them, palms facing inward against his chest and then slamming them upward above his head, turning his palms outward at the top of the movement. His already mountainous deltoids seemed to jump off of the canvas of his body and his face barely even showed the strain. He seemed to be in his own world, focused on nothing but his movement.

Nancy was so enthralled by his body's ability to handle the heavy weight and more so by the amazing condition of his physique. She found that she had trouble concentrating on her few meager exercises because she so enjoyed watching the way he was doing his own. His chiseled body dripped with sweat and his veins bulged in tandem with the ever steady contraction of his muscles. Dave Batista was a maze of hard muscles and sinew, power and prowess, in the ring; in the gym; in any place you found him. Her stomach was coiled in a heated knot as he turned to face her.

"Trouble?" He asked.

"Huh? No, why?" She said snapping out of her trance, and turning away from him to concentrate on her own tiny weights.

"You sure I'm doing it right?" He asked, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. He knew she had been watching him.

"I wouldn't know." Nancy stammered. "I was doing my own stuff."

With a crooked grin on his face, he lowered the weights, and then the wheels in his wicked mind began to revolve. "I have another exercise that I wanna show you." His secret intent was to tease her with what it was she obviously wanted but was too innocent to admit.

Nancy placed her 5 pound weights back on the floor, and stood up as he motioned with his hand.

"Turn and face the mirror." He ordered. Dave walked to the rack of EZ bars and lifted the 10 pound bar off of the rack…he grinned, thinking that his first child had weighed more than this when she was born…but everyone had to start somewhere and Nancy was new to this. "Put your feet shoulder width apart." He stood in front of her and handed her the bar.

She held the bar awkwardly for a moment until he moved around behind her. He was close enough for her to feel the heat from his body against her back even as she could see both of their reflections in the mirror in front of her. He towered over her 5'3" stature and the feeling of intimidation she might have felt otherwise was overshadowed by the restless tingling in her stomach.

The heated knot inside of her was quickly becoming an undulating mass of something Nancy could not even describe, as from behind her, he reached around to grasp the bar, his hands on hers. "Does this feel too heavy? Too light?" He inquired softly, his deep voice tickling her ear. He leaned inward, intent on making her nervous, but he caught that blessed scent again, the one that only belonged to her and he lost his concentration for a split second.

"Just right." She said, unable to speak much more than monosyllabic responses and even those were barely louder than a whisper, his chest was touching her shoulders and searing her with his heat. The sweat on his forearms was transferred to her arms at the touch, and she found she liked it, She felt almost heady with fear, anticipation and something else…

"Okay, then curl it like this." He lifted the bar with his hands still on hers, his body surrounding her. His first impulse was to rip the weight out of her hands and throw her over the bench, but he held on to his self-control. It was, after all his intention to tease _her _not the other way around. She deserved it, a little…since she had been watching him and then denying it when she'd been caught.

"No, no…keep your elbows in close to your sides." He instructed, using his own bent elbows to pull hers back in against her sides. This movement caused her back to seat itself against his stomach. "Now, flex the bicep and hold it, let the bar touch your chest, but not slam into it." The front of his body was still pressed firmly against her back and with his hands on hers still, his bent fingers accidentally grazed her upper breast. The unintentional contact nearly obliterated his composure. He had to stop this whole thing now or he knew he wouldn't be able to control himself for much longer. He was thinking all of the things he shouldn't be thinking.

Dave let go of her hands slowly and then cursing silently, stood behind her continuing to observe. "Keep your back straight." He ordered softly as he placed his huge palm flat against her lower back as a means of stabilization and then placed other on her shoulder. He could have removed his hands and backed away. She was quite capable of doing the exercise on her own, but he kept them there for a few more reps because he liked the way she felt, shaking and nervous. And as much as Dave Batista hated to admit it, the idea of a woman actually being visibly intimidated by his presence, turned him on…it fed the beast. He praised her for her efforts, and then suggested that they head back to the hotel.

Nancy found her throat dry and her stomach tight and hot, a swirling feeling of euphoria was pitching back and forth inside of her body and she found she had been disappointed when he had distanced himself from her in the middle of the exercise. She allowed him to take the bar from her to re-rack it and then oblivious to the curious stares from onlookers, she let him lead her out of the gym into the stifling heat of the mid-day San Antonio sunshine.

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Breezing into the lobby of the hotel, keys in hand, leaving Maria stumbling to catch up, Christy Hemme was the equivalent of an F-5 Tornado. She passed through the lobby, bound straight for the desk, her sole mission to acquire the key to Dave's room, her rightful place, and then win him back tonight with a little wine and a well orchestrated blow job. Screw Triple H and his plan, there was no way she could stand around and let that saucy little seamstress steal away her only chance at a life with someone like Dave Batista.

She dropped her keys on the counter with less than graceful elegance in order to gain the attention of the female desk clerk who was shuffling through paperwork in a small filing cabinet. Christy was regarded with an arched eyebrow and a stiff chin by the woman behind the large marble topped desk.

"How can I help you?" The woman inquired without inflection.

"Uh, well." Christy said shoving a handful of red hair over her shoulder and out of her way. "I need to get the duplicate key to my fiancé's room."

"What room number?" The woman asked, her eyes never meeting Christy's.

"I'm not sure, His name is Dave Batista." Christy said impatiently. "He didn't tell me what room he would be in, he just knows I'm supposed to be here today."

"He's your fiancé and you don't know what room he's in?" The woman asked deliberately.

"That's what I _just_ said." Christy leaned back from the counter and huffed.

"Let me just look it up for you." The sound of the woman's long nails hitting the keys on the keyboard indicated that she was searching for the room number. "Oh yes I see…" She looked Christy in the eye. "I'm not able to give you a duplicate key, he made no notation that he was expecting a guest." The woman lied. She had read the notation made by the night clerk indicating that the man had _specifically_ stated that there were to be _no _duplicate keys given out to anyone that asked for his room. The man must have been dead set on _not_ seeing his fiancé. And being bound by the procedures of the hotel, she could not tell the woman exactly what had been notated on the gentleman's account.

"What?" Christy blurted. "That's wrong, look again." She demanded pointing to the back of the computer monitor since she couldn't see the screen. "Look it up!" She bellowed.

"Ma'am, it's not wrong, I am afraid that he didn't leave your name and so I will _not_ be able to give you a key." The woman's demeanor never changed and she clearly wasn't going to be intimidated.

"I know it's _wrong_…could you just give me the room number and I'll go check and see what the deal is." Christy was beginning to panic.

"I'm sorry we don't give out the room numbers of our guests."

"Then call up there!" Christy blasted, oblivious to the ever increasing line of WWE stars forming behind her, ready to get into their own rooms.

"Ma'am, do you have a reservation in this hotel? If so perhaps we can get you into _your_ room, if not then I have here a list of hotels that might be happy to accommodate you, as they still have rooms open." The woman was unwavering.

"I have a room, and it's Dave Batista's room." Christy matched he woman's icy glare with one of her own. "And if you like your job, then you'll get me a key before I have you fired and put your ass out on the _River Walk_ before the hour is over."

The woman smiled undeterred. "I will repeat your options and then I will remind you that if you do not have a reservation…that hanging out in the lobby is considered loitering…and if _you _like your job, I would suggest that you don't put yourself in a position to have to defend your threats, otherwise you may be on a quest to make bail before your wrestling show tonight!" The woman never raised her voice to more than a normal tone, she simply tilted her head a notch to the left and smiled assertively.

"I don't…have my…own reservation." Christy faltered, near tears. "My fiancé was supposed to leave my name on the room, he always does." Christy was lying…using the word fiancé was a simple way of getting her foot in the door. A way that obviously wasn't working with this puffed up battle ax.

"Then perhaps, one of the other hotels may be able to service you until you can work things out with your fiancé, as we are booked to the hilt." The woman slid a crisp sheet of stationary across the marble desk top. Several hotel's names and numbers along with addresses were typed neatly across the sheet.

"You don't have a single room left?" Christy asked dubiously.

"That's what I _just_ said." The woman smirked. "Now if you'll please step aside…"

"Listen to me!" Christy slammed her keys down on the counter along with her pocket book, eliciting a sharp scowl from the desk clerk. "I _have_ to get into this hotel, either in _his_ room or one of my own!"

The woman was clearly enjoying the conflict, despite the fact that she appeared to be at her wits end. "Maybe if you wore your hair back away from your ears, you could, more clearly hear what's being said to you." The woman remarked sharply.

"Either you have a room or you _don't_ have a room…it's fairly simple. If you booked even a couple of days ago, then you would have gotten in, as it stands, there is a PRCA Pro Rodeo here in town, and as you _well_ know, there are the wrestling matches…" She gestured to the row of impatient wrestlers behind Christy. "And there is a Jehovah's Witness Convention being held also. So as it stands…we…have…no…rooms." The woman watched as Christy blanched at her announcement. "Now if you would like to bunk with one of your buddies, then be my guest, otherwise please refer to the list I gave you…and kindly step aside."

Christy turned, glancing helplessly behind her for any one of her _buddies_. Stacy shook her head, grimacing at a small twinge of guilt. "Sorry, I'm bunking with Maria, we booked about a week ago."

"I'll take the other bed or something." Christy offered.

"There's only one bed, and Maria's already taking the floor." Stacy felt sorry for Christy, but she was on a time limit and so she edged past her toward the desk as did most of the other wrestlers.

"Trish?" Christy called out her name hoping that she would be able to help her.

"No way…I'm already sharing." Trish pulled her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. "There's a hotel, like right down the way…just check and see if they have a room…no biggie. You can always come hang out with us down here and party later."

Trish's attempt at reassurance fell on deaf ears and Christy felt the familiar burning of tears behind her eyelids. She felt like a frumpy, left-over, third wheel in her mini skirt and oversized polo top with a small soda stain on the front. No one would share with her and all because she had counted on being able to stay with Dave…that's how it was supposed to be right? They had been together for a few weeks, not every night, but for some of them. Didn't that count for anything? She was called back from silently feeling sorry for herself by Lillian Garcia, who tapped her on the shoulder. The two of them were not good friends, but there was little tension between them…their acquaintance was amicable.

"You can bunk with me." Lillian said hesitantly, but with a warning she continued. "You get the sofa, and I swear to God if you snore, I'll choke you in your sleep." She handed Christy the duplicate key and then walked away.

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Dave steered the Ferrari into the space in front of the hotel. He laughed at Nancy's description of Max's last trip to the gym, mostly because of the way her eyes danced when she talked about it…the way she laughed about his antics until she lost her breath and then the way she sighed after she had finally caught her breath once again. The things that she described were genuinely funny and he wondered why he hadn't had more of those types of experiences in his life. Maybe he'd had experiences like it and just hadn't been able to recognize them, that's what Nancy had said, and thinking back he realized that she was right. He had been able to remember a few very funny incidents that he had long since forgotten, because of her simple verbal prodding.

Nancy tucked her jacket under her arm and then stepped outside of the car, feeling much calmer now than she had been inside of the gym with her body and hormones properly in check. None of that really mattered though when she saw _him_ climb out of the driver's seat and close the door. His body was still coated in a fine sheen of sweat, the short drive from the gym having not given him much time to cool completely off. That sight was one of the most attractive she'd seen and she had to look away.

"Thanks again for breakfast…and teaching me how to lift weights." She said as she stared at the tip of her shoe…the shoe he'd bought.

"We're not done yet…" He told her and pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes. "You only got to work your chest and arms. Next time we'll have to go after those legs." He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked beside her through the doors of the lobby.

A cool rush of air conditioning gave a blessed reprieve from the heat and the laughing pair hadn't gone very far when the intonation of a familiar voice gave them pause.

Christy was nearly all the way across the lobby when she called out Dave's name.

"Oh, shit…" He muttered and Nancy would not have heard it had she not been thinking the very same thing. It was as if he'd given a life and voice to her reflection.

"Maybe you'd better…uh…" Dave began, not knowing what he'd thought she should do, just sure that he didn't relish another one-sided cat-fight with Christy wielding the claws.

"I'll just…go on up." Nancy finished his sentence for him, "I'll see you…around." She turned and walked to the elevator and pushed the button with her finger. No sooner had she stepped into the elevator and turned, did she get a glimpse of Christy throwing herself into the thick arms of Dave Batista. The doors closed and Nancy shut her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall, thankful that she hadn't let herself fall for him. _He's just like all of the others_, she thought, _He can only be a friend nothing more_. The thoughts battled with one another for primacy, rolling around in her head like jagged marbles. _He helped you…that's all_. _He was dating her when he gave you a ride and you knew it full well_. Nancy guessed that soon he would have Christy up in is room doing God-knows-what, and now she was _sure_ that she was better off just being one of Dave's acquaintances.

The elevator door opened and she stepped out into the hallway, remembering last night when he'd insisted on walking her to the door…'_Don't think about that.'_

She said to herself as she slid the keycard into the lock and swung the door open. Nancy's luggage sat neatly on the floor by the bed, meaning Max had come, but was nowhere in the room. "Thank God…" She said aloud, sinking down beside her make-up satchel and pulling out her razor. "I can finally shave my legs." She yanked the shaving cream out of her bag as well and ran off to the bathroom to take a shower. Maybe after her shower she could just get started on John Cena's project and forget all about Dave Batista.


	14. Chapter 13

Uncommon Sense Chapter 13  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."

-_Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray_

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"Oooh, ick!" Christy remarked backing up with a scowl, but only after she was completely certain that Nancy had seen her latch onto Dave. "You're all sweaty, babe…and sticky." Crinkling her nose up with disgust at first, she then looked at Dave and smiled as sweetly as she could. "I missed you." Her cooing was driving him nuts.

Dave Batista lifted his cumbersome bag, placing it between himself and Christy to hold her at bay even though he doubted that she would want to touch him again because he was covered in sweat. It was the first time in his life he was grateful to be dirty. And he wasn't completely clueless as to why she had thrown herself bodily on him in the lobby…it was an act contrived solely for the purpose of marking her territory in front of Nancy. The display angered and disgusted him and he racked his brain searching for just the most tactful way to tell Christy Hemme that he was tired of her and tired of her games, but the words were evading him.

Christy however, never seemed to be at a loss for words and as a small furious shiver coursed through her she spoke. "Maybe _you_ could explain to me what's going on." The words popped out stiffly, as she fought to maintain her composure trying to hide her rage and confusion at having witnessed Dave and the bitch from _Wardrobe_ chumming it up in the lobby, after what appeared to be a very entertaining outing.

"What do you mean?" Dave knew damned well what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it. Little by little her true colors were showing and he was finding them less and less, appealing.

"What were you doing with _her_?" Christy hissed, holding her clenched fists down to the side of her already rigid and tense body.

"We worked out together, what's the big deal?" He wasn't looking forward to the drama that he knew was about to play out, and he was a tad miffed that she felt the need to confront him.

"So now, she's riding to events with you, and working out at the gym with you…explain that one to me." Christy was on the verge of tears, her entire body shook with infuriation. "I heard that she managed to orchestrate things so that she would end up hitching a ride with you last night instead of having to ride on the bus with all of the other losers where she _belongs_." Her comment came out through clenched teeth.

"That's not how it happened…" Dave explained, biting his lip. "One of the guys hid my bag, and by the time I found it, I came out and saw her running to try to catch the bus. She was being left behind. What? Would you rather I had left her too?"

"And you couldn't even just drop her ass off at the hotel, you just decided you should take her for a drive…all the fucking way to the next venue?"

"_You_ need to calm down." He warned, clenching his jaw, eyes riveting from left to right as a small crowd of onlookers began to gather. He didn't like being yelled at in private and he most assuredly detested being confronted in public.

"I have been calling you since last night and not once did you answer your phone or call me back!" Her voice was raised in a feverish panic. "And _now_ the two of you are hanging out and laughing with each other like you've known her for years!"

"Well, I guess that's one of the benefits of being a grown man." He said, trying to veil the irritation he was feeling. "You see, I can make decisions like that for myself, and I don't have to call and get _anyone's_ permission beforehand. I was trying to help her out and in the process of doing that I realized she's sort of…_fun_ to be around." Fun wasn't the right word, Dave knew, but how could he ever tell someone as shallow as Christy all of the simple things that were a part of Nancy, all of the things that she _was_ that Christy didn't have the substance to _ever_ be. How could he explain the things about Nancy that were gradually drawing him in like a black-hole? How could he tell Christy that he didn't even want to fight it anymore, or even make her understand how good it felt to be liked for something besides _who_ you were, or that he was relieved because in this new friendship…if that's what it was, there was no pressure, no expectations?

How could he tell Christy that in the few days since he had met Nancy that he felt more like a capable man than he had since the fledgling years of his marriage and that she hadn't done anything special to make him feel that way, she had just been being herself? That was something that Christy _could _never, _would_ never be able to do…because everything that was intrinsically 'Christy' was based solely on a need to propel her own interests. She was self-absorbed by nature. He could look at Christy now, and question why he had let himself be led in by her, he could look at her at this very moment with complete clarity and see the hatred and malice in her eyes and know that it was something he didn't desire to be a part of anymore.

"Well, at least we're together finally and I'll bet…" She softened and said narrowing her eyes seductively. "That if we go upstairs…I can change your mind all about that whole 'Hanging out with the hired help' idea" She moved closer to him and ran her finger across his forearm.

"I highly doubt _that_." He said with little emotion, clenching his jaw and then shoving his tongue between his teeth and cheek to stifle another smart ass remark that was bubbling up from within him.

"Is it because of _her_?" Christy asked grinding her teeth. She was three seconds away from tracking down that bitch and smashing her head into the wall. "I knew she was going to pull something like this…I knew she was hot for you the minute she looked up at _you_ after she dumped the coffee on _me_!"

"Christy, I'm not in the mood to deal with all of this _bullshit_ right now. You're contradicting yourself and you're still so hung up on _you_, that _you_ don't have room for anyone else in _your_ life." Dave Batista prepared to turn and go, but before leaving he reaffirmed his stance. "I meant what I said about taking a break from each other…I think you and I should go our own respective directions. That shouldn't be too hard for you since we're not actually a couple and since you're pretty well used to doing whatever you want to do anyway." He walked to the elevators and punched the button fiercely with his thumb.

"Dave, don't do this." Christy could feel the floor of their fragile relationship slipping right out from under her. "Please." She pleaded as he stepped into the elevators without responding. "What do you want from me? I'll do it!"

Dave didn't bother to answer her and he was relieved when the door shut completely. He knew that he had to be firm about what he expected or else he would never have gotten her to understand. And just short of telling her to go to hell, he knew no other way to get his point across.

Christy would bounce back from this, he was sure of that. She was beautiful and if she had managed her money right, then she was surely financially sound. She would be an attractive catch to anyone who could deal with her antics and her forked tongue. Christy had lucrative modeling deals and tons of men panting after her. She would recover and forget _all_ about him before long…soon she would wonder why she had even wasted her time with him, the same way that he was wondering why he had wasted his time with her. No sex she had ever given was worth dealing with the drama that was a constant part of her life and he was immensely thankful to be rid of her.

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Triple H once again took in the entire situation from a distance, preferring to get the objective point of view. He nearly laughed out loud when he realized how quickly and flawlessly his plan was coming together and he damned sure didn't feel sorry for Christy in the slightest. He had warned her about staying back and allowing things to run their course. He could see her crying as she walked out of the lobby to her rental car. Following, he was surprised at how quickly she stomped out of the hotel, forcing him to have to jog to catch up.

"Christy, slow down." Triple H huffed, almost catching her. Wearing the expensive suit in the heat was sapping his energy, and he was starting to become irritated. "Christy Stop!" He finally reached her side, only because she halted and turned on her heel as if she were attached to a pulley.

"I'm all in, okay?" Eyes narrowed to little more than glittering slits, she pointed her keys at Triple H as if to enforce her vow. "_Whatever_ it takes, you understand me? I want his ass _back_ and _whatever_ it takes to make that happen, I'll do it!" She practically growled the oath. "That bitch has done everything she possibly can to make my life a living hell and now I don't care if I have to flush her little needle wielding career down the pisser! He's mine and she _cannot_ have him!"

"Well it's about time you grew a set of balls." Triple H announced, glad he'd remembered to bring the tiny tape recorder that was currently nestled in the inside pocket of his jacket. The recorded, malevolent admission of her desire to destroy Nancy could prove very useful to him if Christy decided to back out of the plan or if he needed to remove Christy from the picture altogether. "Now might be a good time for us to talk about a few things."

Stephanie had opted to return home and take care of a situation on the corporate front, which was a relief to Triple H, because it gave him a chance to have his dealings with Christy without arousing Stephanie's constant heated suspicions. "Just give me ten minutes to explain the first step in the plan and then you'll be on your way, confident that in a couple of short weeks, you'll be back in Dave Batista's bed."

Christy yanked the bag forcefully out of the trunk and then slammed it shut as if she were trying to flatten the back end of the car. "You talk, I'll walk." Her tears had turned into motivated anger of the most dangerous kind, as she stomped down the sidewalk and around the back of the hotel toward the outside stairs.

Triple H began to hash out the fine details of the first stage in his plan and after stifling a few of her objections and explaining cause and effect in great detail, he was sure she had the general idea. He appreciated how she was becoming enough of an interested party that she was giving him her own suggestions and adding her own touch to the plan. Triple H surmised that she had probably been in the revenge business before, because she was unmistakably calculated and emotionless as she described the things that she would say in her meeting with Jericho tonight and the things she was prepared to do behind the scenes later if everything panned out the way they had it designed.

The two cohorts parted company, and as Triple H strolled back to his vehicle, he didn't feel guilty at the amount of pertinent information that he had withheld from her. Christy was a bit like a hundred year old circuit breaker…too much going in…and the whole thing would overload and shut down. He felt it necessary to give her only the most basic outline of what was to come, and then allow her the freedom to add to the general footprint of the vendetta. She was a good actress, _that,_ he well knew and she would have no problem making the tiny white lies believable.

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Nancy, swiped the razor up her left leg one last time, successfully ridding herself of the pesky hair, as she fought to keep balanced, with one foot propped on the toilet and the other unshaved leg rooted firmly on the floor. She rinsed the razor under the hot water from the tub and then turned the faucet off. She slathered another ball of shaving cream down her right leg, planting her left foot on the floor and then hopping, razor in one hand and shaving cream in the other, to get her right leg up on the toilet seat. Before she could wipe the cream off of her hand or even take a swipe at the unshaved leg, she was interrupted by a persistent knocking from the hotel room door.

"Crap…" Nancy fumbled, shoving the handle of the razor in her mouth, and trying to wrap the towel around her waist, with the one hand that wasn't still half full of shaving cream, while at the same time, trying to keep the towel from swaying down and grazing the fresh layer of shaving cream on her leg. She groaned in irritation as she hopped through the bathroom door, deciding that like always, Max had probably lost his key.

She reached the door through a series of hops on the one cleanly shaven leg, with the other sticking out of the towel, up in the air as not to get the shaving cream on the towel around her waist or on anything else. Nancy was fairly sure that if anyone had been watching this, they might have considered having her committed. With the razor latched tightly between her teeth, she couldn't very clearly speak, so the _"hold on a minute"_ came out as more of a "Ode od a widdit!" and then her attempt at _"It's about time, Max."_ was whittled down to more of a "It's awout dine, Wax." This was the comment that flew out of her mouth as she used her elbow to hold the towel against her hip so her panties would be covered, and then used the one free hand to yank open the door. But it wasn't Max…wasn't anything that resembled Max.

Her eyes widened in shock. "Oh Cwap…" Nancy mumbled through the razor as she fought furiously to hold the towel firmly to her hip with her elbow…but it fell to the ground. The razor dropped to the floor as her mouth flew open in surprise and she was left with just her humiliation on the one hand and shaving cream on the other.

"Uh, can I come in?" Dave asked, a slight smile tickling his lips. "I could…come back." He gestured to her precarious position.

"Shit…" Nancy whispered the oath, reached down to snatch up the towel and then wrapped it back around her waist…and then grasping the razor she stammered. "Come…in." She began to hop toward the bathroom again. "Could you just…" She began nervously as she gestured toward the open door.

"Uh, yeah…I'll just…" He didn't dare finish the sentence, afraid that some sexually deviant comment would fly out of his mouth before he could call it back. He turned with his back to her and shut the hotel room door. He could hear her hopping across the room behind him into the bathroom and then the door of the bathroom shut softly, so he turned back around and sat on the bed. The image of her standing there, half covered in shaving cream wearing only a light blue pair of panties and a tiny tank top was indelibly burned into his mind and he shut his eyes grinning madly. He remembered how red her face had become, how quickly that beautiful shade of scarlet had drained into her throat and down into the hollow where that tiny diamond lay. He'd even gotten a glimpse of her hardened nipples through the thin fabric of the tank top. He swallowed, hard trying to ignore the raging testosterone and the inner animal telling him _"You're here sitting on the edge of her bed…that's half of the battle won already."_

"I'll be out in a minute." Nancy croaked, wadding the towel up and shoving her face into it, ready to scream. How was it possible for one person to do so many ludicrous and bumbling things in front of other people? But it wasn't just other people…it was him…only him…always _him_. Her ability to be charming and steady was constantly dashed when he was around, instead she was jumpy and trembling and awkward. If she wasn't dropping things, she was leaving tags on her clothing, or getting caught watching him when she shouldn't be. She dropped the towel with a thump on the floor after having wiped the shaving cream off of her unfinished leg…it would have to wait until later.

Dave waited patiently if even a bit anxiously, sitting on the edge of the bed, but then decided against it, thinking that she might assume he had come in here to seduce her. He stood and then leaned casually against the dresser. Or at least attempted to, but with his huge size, he only succeeded in causing the whole piece of furniture to slide about six inches from its original position. The television on top of it rocked dangerously as if it could fall, causing the remote control to take a loud tumble off of the top of it and onto the floor. He steadied the television, returned the remote to the top of it and then tugged the dresser without effort back into the indentations in the carpet so she wouldn't know.

He was on the verge of laughing at himself, but instead, decided he would try to break the ice before she got out of the bathroom…it was better than just trying to stand here or else he was liable to accidentally break something else.

"So, uh, I guess I should probably say 'thank you'…" Dave said clearing his throat.

"Oh, for what? The free peep show?" Came her nervous attempt at wit from the other side of the door.

There she went again, injecting her own brand of humor into an awkward situation and though he was sure that it was just habit for her, it instantly made him feel better, more at ease…it was one of those things that she accomplished without even trying. Dave certainly hadn't intended to show up when she was shaving, but he found that he wasn't exactly disappointed that he had. He smiled and looked down at the floor. "Actually, I was gonna thank you for solving one of the great mysteries of life." He laughed gently. "Up until now, I never knew _exactly_ how that 'shaving legs' thing worked."

"Or why all of your shaving cream probably disappeared when a girl was around?" She responded.

"That's exactly right…I always ended up wondering if there was less in the can from the factory or if it somehow evaporated when I wasn't around." He laughed remembering how his ex-wife had made it her habit to use his shaving cream and then innocently fib about it when the can was empty.

"I have that same problem." She announced. "Max forgets to put that particular item on his shopping list and then he uses all of mine." She opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out nervously. She was clothed this time, in the same tank top, but with a pair of thin cotton pants that he supposed she used for sleeping. Her hair was pulled up in a turban towel wrap on top of her head and the red evidence of her embarrassment still showed in her features.

"You have…a…little…" He smiled pointing to her face. "Just a…" he reached out and swiped one long finger softly down the bridge of her nose, and then holding it up he showed her the tiny spot of shaving cream that had been on her nose.

She laughed and then pulled the towel off of her head and used it to dab at her nose and then handed it to him so he could wipe the shaving cream off of his finger.

"I came up here to give you this." He reached over onto the table where he had set down a canned protein drink. "I knew you probably wouldn't know, because you don't work out much, but your muscles will be sore in the morning and this helps." He handed her the can deciding that he was surely a genuine idiot. It was the same as when he'd purposely cut the slit in his shirt so he'd have an excuse to talk to her. She was going to see right through him, if she hadn't already…he wouldn't blame her if she asked him to leave, but he hoped that she wouldn't.

"Thank you." Nancy said eyeing the can. She accepted it and sat down on the edge of the bed. "But I'm guessing that you didn't come all the way up here to talk to me about protein."

She had called him to the mat and now he couldn't lose his nerve. He nodded, and started to lean against the dresser again, but thought the better of it as he looked around aimlessly for a place to sit. He watched as she scooted closer to the headboard of the bed, silently making room for him on the edge. Did she have to do that? Did she have to invite him right onto the only place he had been imagining himself taking her for days? Did she have to look at him that way, with a mixture of confusion and doubt in her eyes? With her damp curls hanging below her shoulders, save for the one wet ringlet that was now lying temptingly in line with her nipple, sending a rivulet of water down the front of her tank top and across the hardened bud. She was subconsciously driving him mad. She had no clue what he was thinking of doing to her how dangerously close he was to crossing the line.

"You're right." He admitted, starting the ball on its dangerous roll…he wanted her to know, needed her to know that he wasn't in love with Christy. "What you saw, down there in the lobby…" He began nervously rolling his neck as if to soothe some mysterious muscle ache.

"You don't have to explain that to me." Nancy said with a soft smile on her face.

"Well, I think I do." He said, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat down on the bed, willing his body to obey when what _it_ wanted to do was unspeakable. "I have been trying to find a way to end this _thing_ with Christy for a while now."

"You really don't have to do…that." Why did her mouth go dry when she imagined him with Christy? "You're a free man…and you don't owe me anything." She explained softly, smiling if for no other reason than to convince her own self that what she was saying was how she actually felt. "If anything…I owe you…I mean, you bought me clothes when I didn't have any, and gave me a ride instead of letting me take a cab…you took me to eat _twice_, and God knows what that must have cost you, with my appetite." She was relieved when he laughed a little. "You even took me to workout with you." Her voice dropped to a slightly sad, raspy tone and mirrored in her eyes was a mournful confusion. "No one's ever done that for me." She could feel her throat threatening to lump up on her and so she took a drink of her protein. "I appreciate everything, but you don't have to do _anything_ you don't want to do…not for someone like me."

He noticed that she spoke the last comment as if she felt she wasn't worth giving up something good for. He wondered how she couldn't possibly know how much she was worth in all of her simplicity. What had happened in Nancy's life to make her so ready to take a back seat to someone who couldn't hold a candle to her?

"I was ready to end things, before you came along." He admitted. "I had to tell her, _again_, that I don't want to be with her." Dave laced his fingers together as he propped his elbows on his knees. "That whole display in the lobby was intended to make you angry, jealous, whatever…I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Wow! All of that for me?" Nancy laughed nervously. But she certainly knew how that felt…she _had_ been jealous and angry and determined never to let those emotions control her ever again. She had resolved all the way up in the elevator to forget about _him_, and again resolved the same thing when she'd been in the shower, thinking about _him_, but her stiff upper lip and determination had fallen flat the moment she saw him. And now with him here telling her that he was through with Christy, she couldn't even muster the courage to be firm in her decision to write him off.

"I haven't enjoyed myself this much in a long time." His eyes widened and he clenched his jaw as if it were a calculated risk for him to admit it. "I hope that we can keep, uh, doing things together." Oh, God…this was worse than cutting a promo on your debut night. He knew if it were required of him physically, that he could show her a million things he wanted her to know without ever saying a word, but _this_ on the other hand…telling her in words, risking the rejection…_this_ was infinitely harder.

Nancy nodded, looking at him, watching the conflict behind his eyes, hoping that he couldn't detect the clash of emotions in her. "I still owe you dinner." She ran her finger across the rim of the can in her hand, unsure of exactly what was supposed to happen next. That particular turn of events was decided for her, when the sound of a key card being inserted in the lock caused her head to snap up.

Max pushed the door open, holding a Styrofoam takeout carton in his hands and biting down on a _River Walk_ brochure. The sight of Nancy on the bed and Dave Batista sitting awkwardly on the edge of it, stopped him dead in his tracks and his mouth fell open allowing the brochure to flutter to the floor. "Uh…" He shook his head. "Uh, let me…I'll come back…" He hitched his thumb indicating he was ready to retreat.

Dave stood hurriedly, and then shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, I'll just see you later?" He asked trying to sound as unruffled as possible.

"Yeah." Nancy nodded, standing up as well.

"Be sure and drink all of that." He gestured toward the can in her hand. "If you get really sore in the morning it's okay to take an aspirin or something." He turned after seeing her nod. He then tipped his chin in acknowledgement to Max and disappeared through the open doorway.

"_Sore?_" Max said his eyes and mouth wide open. He slammed the takeout carton on the table in eagerness, nearly crushing its lid and then turned with a quizzical grin on his face. "What would you have to be _sore_ about?" He was absolutely through the moon over having walked in on the two of them. Granted they weren't locked in some torrid embrace, but he had plainly been able to sense something more than a friendly tête-à-tête.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She said casually, turning to check her reflection in the dresser mirror.

"Oh…God!" Max covered his heart with both of his hands and fell to his knees behind her, feigning a heart attack. "Details…" He croaked. "I crave details!" he scooted on his knees behind her as she walked over to her suitcase.

"Draw your own conclusions." Nancy said for the sake of tormenting him.

"You're killing me!" Max said falling over onto the floor, holding his chest and acting as if he were in convulsions.

"There are no details." Nancy held her hands out to her sides smiling smugly.

"_You_ are a damned liar!" Max said raising himself to his knees. "You're not even gonna tell me how you and _'Mr. World Heavy Weight Champion'_ ended up in _here…alone_…on the same bed together?" He waggled his eyebrows dramatically.

"Stop calling him that." She laughed at his behavior. "His name is Dave." She picked up the towel and tossed it over Max's head, blanketing him in darkness.

"Aha!" Max yanked the towel off of his head and stood up. "I fucking knew it!" He roared happily. "You two are on a first name basis now, so _something_ must have happened!"

"You know, the Bible says that even a fool is counted wise when he keeps his mouth shut." She raised her eyebrows and regarded him with an innocent appearance.

He groaned as if the suffering was more than he could bear. "If I shut up, then will you tell me everything?" He followed behind her like a lost puppy dog.

"Stop hounding me!" She giggled, shoving him playfully backward a step or two.

"Come on! Don't be a shit!" Max said desperately. "I've been watching some wrestling matches lately and I _think_ I know the basic premise of a body-slam, so give over with the details or you'll be sorry!" He flexed his flabby arms and made a halfhearted attempt at a dangerous face.

Nancy laughed. "Well…it all started because _someone_ didn't hold the bus like he was supposed to." She leveled a delicate finger and poked him in the chest accusingly.

"I swear I sat back and dozed off and the next thing I know, Vicki's waking me up at the hotel and asking where you were." Max lied. "I tried to call your cell and the damned thing starts ringing next to me in the pocket of your sweater. I panicked and called the arena but no one was there, so I was going to call the police, but Brian Hebner said he saw you leave with Dave Batista."

"Didn't you even care that I didn't check in later that night?" Nancy asked suspiciously.

"I just figured that you two went to hang out or something, and then I called in the morning before we left Dallas and the hotel clerk here said you'd checked in so I knew you were okay." He defended himself. "So now you can tell me what else happened…get to the part about _why_ you're gonna be sore…did you two 'Do It'?"

"That's enough…" She pushed him backward out of the bathroom and then slapped at his hands forcing him completely out. "I'm through feeding your little fantasies, now scat!" She shut the door behind him.

"Please! I swear just let me know that one little tiny thing!" Max whined banging his forehead into the door. "If you tell me, I'll tell you what happened between me and Vicki!"

The bathroom door came open so fast that Max fell through, landing flat on his stomach at Nancy's feet.

"Tell it now!" She ordered, looking down at Max.

"She came and sat in your seat beside me on the bus." He stood up as he told her how the make-up artist's playful teasing had become somewhat friendly. "She likes me, I can tell…we even had lunch together." He said. "And after the show tonight she's taking me to a club on the _River Walk_." He grinned like a mad man, and then rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Now it's your turn."

Nancy looked at him and then with all of the seriousness she could muster, she bit her lip and sighed, letting out a swift breath. She smiled as if she'd had the most pleasurable experience in her life, pretending a little shiver and announced. "Take it for whatever its worth, but I'm gonna be sore for _days_." She slammed the bathroom door shut in Max's face.

Max whooped triumphantly raising both hands in the air as if he'd just scored a winning touch down.


	15. Chapter 14

Uncommon Sense Chapter 14  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Man is the only animal whose desires increase as they are fed; the only animal that is never satisfied."

**Henry George**  
_US economist (1839 - 1897)_

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Leaning backward in his chair, brow furrowed with arms folded across his chest, Eric Bischoff was the picture of intense contemplation. He pondered the suggestion given, as he stared at the conniving pair before him and seemingly endless silence ensued as he considered his words carefully.

"You know, Chris, I dare say that I am the biggest proponent of 'must-see-TV'. But, be that as it may…I still have to consider the safety factor for _everyone_ involved here." Eric leaned forward, a despondent look on his face, and rested his elbows on the edge of the table that served as his makeshift desk. "I may not be particularly fond of her, but the fact remains that she is _not_ a wrestler, nor has she had _any_ training as a wrestler." He shook his head, dispelling the idea. "I cannot in good conscience, put her in the ring with you."

Chris Jericho, who was sitting next to Christy, cast a furtive glance, and then pursed his lips together. He knew that if he didn't find a way to appeal to Eric's intrinsic desire for recognition with the masses the idea would fall flat before the unscrupulous General Manager would even consider it.

"Okay, I understand that you have to take into consideration, the liability aspect but it's not like she's going to get in there and be forced to endure intense pounding." He gestured with his hands as Christy nodded in unison next to him. "It's basically just for show, and in a round about way, it might just scare her and teach her a little lesson."

"I certainly believe, that if what you said is true, and she _did_ in fact, throw your keys in the trash can…she should be made to undergo some disciplinary action, but I don't think that any of that should entail some 'in-ring fiasco', that's bound get the attention of the board of directors faster than a catered brunch!" Eric frowned and shook his head once more. "Vince would have a field day with this, I can't do it."

"Vince likes ratings…" Christy reminded him. "If you can get her in a match and all goes well, who knows in a week or two she can be put in another one that can be filmed for a live RAW. _No one's_ ever done this sort of thing before…you'll start a whole new type of rivalry…Vince will see _you_ as the one on the cutting edge of creativity. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you haven't thought of teaching her a lesson for the mess ups she's had since she's been here."

"Eric, think of it this way…" Chris regrouped, attempting another approach. "If you write her up and suspend her, the WWE loses one of its best wardrobe consultants, designers whatever, despite the fact that she's had a rocky road here and then we're stuck with that ass clown, fat boy…what's his name?" He turned to Christy for assistance.

"Max." She supplied.

"However…" Chris continued, "All I'm suggesting is just a teensy little intimidation technique if you will, a way to let her know in no uncertain terms that 'our kind' should stick with 'our kind' and that her kind is better off in the bowels of the arena doing what an hourly employee gets paid to do." He scowled roughly. "She's eavesdropped on half of the roster, God knows what all she's told and to whom…" He said, relating what Christy had told him before the meeting. "You saw what she did to Christy's shirt last week…you obviously heard what hell that caused for _her_…and more importantly, I had to pay two hundred dollars to get another FOB key for my Bentley!" His voice began to rise to a level that indicated he was fed up to the hilt. "This would be a safe way to get her to stop her shenanigans and you can still keep a great designer on the staff. She is after all a great designer, like you said, which I don't have to remind you, helps RAW out tremendously, considering that because of _you_, we _are_ the premier brand." His anger caused his chatter to rattle out like BB gun pellets.

Eric sighed and looked down at his desk, deliberating the idea. The intent to appeal to his longing for acknowledgement from anyone who would notice apparently had worked. "Okay, here's the deal…Exhibition Match _ONLY_…you _will_ not…and hear me clearly…you will _NOT_…subject her to any bumps, clotheslines, body slams…_none_ of that! I can't afford a lawsuit on my hands. We'll label it as a no disqualification, inter-gender, intra-staff match you know just to make it sound really treacherous and we'll do it tonight since this is a house show…I don't want this _thing_ being filmed on a major network or any shit like that. It'll just be something for fun for the local fans." He stood up putting his hands in his pockets and pacing, ignoring the smiles of both Chris and Christy. "You can call her out to the ring, confront her about what she did, jerk her around a little bit, maybe a tad of hair pulling…then you'll push her down, put her in the 'Walls of Jericho' and let her tap out."

Eric seemed satisfied with himself as he turned and stared directly at Christy. "_You_ are not to be anywhere at ringside, do you understand?" He waited until she swore a 'Scout's Honor', crossing her heart childishly and then he turned his attentions to Chris.

"No one says anything about this match to anyone else especially her…I will go talk to Nancy about it personally, give her a run down of how she should react and show her how to tap out."

Chris resisted the niggling impulse to tell him that if anyone should know how to tap out it would be Eric.

Eric turned his back toward the conspiratorial duo as he began to decide the time for the intra-staff match. "I'd like to have this match toward the end of the night so that we don't interfere with any of the other matches that people _actually_ care to see." He shook his head, doubting seriously if what he was about to do was even conscionable.

"That's fine with me." Chris announced as he stood to his feet and embraced Eric's hand in a covenant shake. A little hair pulling…he knew exactly what he planned to do, and if he had his way it would involve a hell of a lot more than just a bit of hair pulling.

Neither he nor Eric could have known how easily the two of them played into Christy's hands. The fact that she had been banned from ringside was a blessing in disguise. That little detail alone ensured that as long as she stayed fairly low-key about the whole thing, Dave would never know that she had been the driving force behind the entire arrangement. She also shook Eric's hand and the two excused themselves one at a time from his office, so as not to arouse any suspicions.

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The black coal pencil scratched furiously over the paper as Nancy sketched in the final details for her tribute to John Cena's deceased friend. She wouldn't risk taking the precious design to just any screen printing company, instead she would scan it into Max's laptop and e-mail it to the screen printing company in Amarillo that she had come to know and trust implicitly with all of her designs. The small company was discriminate in its taste as far as proposals went and very protective of Nancy's clientele. She had established such a wonderful rapport with the owner that they tended to favor her. Nancy's design requests usually got pushed to the very top of their list.

She chewed the end of the coal pencil thoughtfully as she used her index finger to smudge the line she'd just made, softening it. Tonight had been a slow night. There were few requests for wardrobe fixes and barely any design projects remaining that hadn't already been completed.

_This_ project, however had taken on a life of it's own…it seemed as if every time Nancy resumed working on it, that something about it needed to be changed or she simply ended up coming up with a better idea for the graphic, and had to incorporate the new inspiration into the original design. Her mind kept drifting to thoughts of things other than her current design, specifically something tall, dark and covered in sweat and tattoos, and she constantly had to realign her thinking in order to stay focused on the task at hand.

Max had all but disappeared, his back hunched as he labored over the undertaking of consuming a ham and cheese hoagie. Nancy was content to simply enjoy the peace and quiet in the wardrobe area, unaware that a huge rift was forming behind the scenes, about to swallow her quest for serenity.

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Dave let the hot water sluice over the front of his body as he leaned his head back and rolled his sore shoulders. His head had definitely not been in the game this evening. He hadn't been able to do much else except imagine what might have transpired had Max not come into the hotel room earlier that day. He was a _little_ glad that Max had come because otherwise he wasn't sure if he would have had the power to stop himself if they had indeed started something. And Dave Batista's dirty mind had no problem conceiving a million different things he could have started, keeping his thoughts in check proved to be more like trying to hold a thousand rubber balls under the surface of a pool with only two hands. He groaned, grasped the knob and then turned the water off, reaching for his towel and then slapping it around his waist…it reminded him of this afternoon when Nancy had lost her towel, and it made him grin roguishly.

He stepped out of the showers and whisked his hand through his wet hair as he strode nonchalantly toward his belongings, relieved to find that they hadn't grown legs and taken a stroll like last time. Dave had barely begun to dress when he was approached by John Cena, who was shaking his head, obviously perturbed with something.

"You okay?" Dave inquired as he tugged on his slacks, and ran his thumb and forefinger down the razor sharp crease.

John appeared to be somewhat confused as he stopped to answer Dave's question. "You rode with that girl Nancy from _Wardrobe_ last night, didn't you?" He scratched his chin.

Dave instantly stiffened up, as he nodded, wondering what John could possibly be about to ask.

"So you know her a little bit right?" John asked, facing Dave head on.

The thought that John might be prepared to ask Nancy out on a date floated through the forefront of Dave Batista's mind, and the instant stab of jealousy caused him to clench his jaw reflexively. "Yeah, why do you ask?" He stood to his full height.

"Well…" John frowned and ran his hand over his five o'clock shadow. "I just overheard the weirdest thing." He tossed his bag on the bench beside Dave's and it landed with a soft 'plop'.

"What's going on?" Dave asked secretly pleased that it didn't appear as if John was about to ask her out. He slipped his grey dress-shirt on and buttoned it quickly. Dave didn't seem overly concerned about John's impending revelation, as it was probably just something to do with the project that she was completing for him. Nancy had told him about it on the way to the gym, though she had not given him specifics. He slid the belt through the loops on his slacks and pulled on his shoes.

"I just heard overheard Bischoff talking to someone in his office and I heard him agree to put Nancy in a match." John announced, shaking his head and frowning. "He's putting her in a match with Chris Jericho…it's only an exhibition match, but it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of…I think I should probably go tell her about it, mainly because I heard Bischoff telling Chris not to say anything to her." John felt a certain loyalty to Nancy being as she was completing a design project for him, but because she had also been willing to do it even in her free time. "I'm not sure if there was anyone else in the office with them, but I know for sure Chris was in there."

"You're kidding me." Dave said straightening sharply as he halted his bag packing. "This has gotta be a joke." He tried to appear calm, but on the inside he was beginning to panic. Dave knew full well the animosity that Eric had for Nancy. He also knew that _any_ type of exhibition match involving someone who knew nothing about wrestling could prove dangerous, especially if Chris Jericho were involved.

"Naw I don't think it's a joke, Man." John explained, his voice carrying out on a nervous laugh. "I think I better get down there and tell her."

"No." Dave said firmly. "I'll take care of it."

"You sure?" John asked. "Because I can let her know right quick, maybe show her some moves or something."

"Just do me a favor." Dave demanded. "If anyone comes looking for her…you haven't seen her, okay?"

John could tell by the thinly concealed resentment, that Dave held some sort of partiality for Nancy. "Will do." He shook hands with Dave, who stuffed his suit jacket in his bag, instead of donning it and snatched the bag up in his hand, walking hastily out into the hall.

Dave stormed out of the arena into the parking area, past the attendant and slung his bag into the Ferrari. He was so furious he couldn't even mutter an intelligible curse to himself as he started the engine up and swung the car backward out of the space, tires squealing in protest. He wheeled the powerful machine around to the back door where the buses were currently parked and waiting and then backed it in between the two monstrous black buses. The show would be over in less than a half hour, and he knew if he didn't hurry, he might be scraping Nancy up off of the mat, instead of treating her to dinner and a drink.

He whipped up the parking brake and slammed the car door shut with unwarranted force behind him, stalking back into the arena. Dave knew where the wardrobe room had been set up and he quickly traversed the maze of halls making a determined bee-line for Nancy. He pushed the wardrobe door open and when his searching eyes found her, he began to calm down, determined not to alarm her. She was sitting in the chair, her curly hair slung over one shoulder, with her legs tucked up underneath her, just the way he had imagined she might be…complete with the pink painted toenails peeking out from beneath the iridescent, plum-colored, broomstick skirt. She was humming again, softly as she swept her pencil over a sketch pad, an indecipherable tune like last time and yet again he found he liked it.

"Hey." He said softly, resisting the inclination to lay his hand on the back of her bare neck. "Doesn't look like you've seen much action around here tonight?" He observed, relieved to see that most of the machinery and fabric had already been packed up and was ready to be loaded.

"Hey, yourself." Nancy responded brightly, closing the flap of her sketch pad and sliding it onto the table next to where she sat. "Nope. Not much of anything. Slow night."

He bit his lower lip and ran his hand nervously through his damp hair. "What would you say if I asked you to leave with me right now?" He watched her smile as she tilted her head in confusion.

"Now?" Nancy asked, "The show doesn't end for another half hour and I still have to help Max with everything…could you give me 45 minutes?"

"I don't need your help." Max piped up as he tried madly to hold in a grin. The evidence showed as a furious blush on his chubby cheeks. "You can go right now."

Dave was secretly thankful for Max and with no desire for delay, he turned to look for the shoes that she was constantly _not_ wearing. He spotted the strappy, high-heeled, taupe sandals lying askew on the floor and picking them up by the straps, realizing that she wouldn't be able to run in them. He turned to Nancy. "See? He said he'd cover for you, come on." He was trying desperately not to make her feel rushed, but time was slipping past. "You can put these on in the car…Don't forget your purse." He cupped her elbow in his large hand and began to lead her to the door.

She hung back slightly, "Max, are you sure? I know you have that _thing_ tonight."

"Go away and stop bothering me." Max joked. "I'm fine! Go on, get out of here!" He shooed the both of them with one meaty hand as Dave grinned victoriously giving Nancy a look that said _'See I told you so.'_

Dave gingerly cracked open the door mere inches, peeked out and then turned to Nancy and placed his index finger against his own smiling lips telling her not to make a sound. He transferred his hold from her elbow to her hand and laced his fingers through hers, opening the door. Nancy didn't know whether she could move. The strong, secure feel of his hand around hers and the smell of him, spicy and sweet as well as the protective heat of his body all worked together to make her feel something she wasn't sure was possible. She felt safe. It was a sensation she wanted to fall into and wrap herself up in.

Dave stepped out into the hallway, pulling Nancy behind him and after looking both ways, holding her hand _and_ her shoes, he picked up his pace, leaving Nancy to nearly jog just to keep up. As he wound through the labyrinth of halls, stopping, looking around corners apprehensively and then speeding up again, Nancy was left with the image of her feet floating up off of the ground and her body flying in the air behind him as he paced toward the exit as if they were being chased. Dave reached the back door and when he finally slowed, Nancy halted.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked, slightly concerned "You're dragging me like there's a fire and the alarms didn't go off."

He knew she was joking, but in her eyes resided a look of fear. "The car's parked right outside of the door, and I'll tell you everything later, but right now there's no time." Dave spoke calmly and evenly as if there wasn't a care in the world. He tried his best to conceal the obvious and allay her fear at the same time, but she wasn't buying it, she wasn't budging and he was getting mighty nervous as he glanced down the hallway from where they had just come.

"Please, tell me what's wrong." Her voice was soft, her eyes probing his for an answer.

"Do you trust me?" He had to know, he didn't much care about anything else at the moment and since she hadn't yet decided he was insane and taken to running away from him, he still had some hope but he had to hear her say it. Dave watched as she nodded and gently said "Yes."

"Well, then let's just put it this way…if you don't leave with me now, I'll just have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out." At that very moment, Eric Bischoff rounded the corner, and spotted the retreating pair at the end of the hallway by the exit. He turned and changed directions heading right for them, with his hand raised in the air as if he wished for them to wait.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna regret this?" She said, as Bischoff called out to them to stop. The slow rise of Dave's eyebrows and his attempt to suppress a laugh seemed to say. _'Because you probably will.'_

With his ever present cocky grin and a nonchalant shrug, Dave reached around behind Nancy, his arm brushing her hip and pushed the bar on the heavy metal door causing it to swing outward. Then looking back at Eric, he noticed the man had picked up his pace. He looked down at Nancy and gestured toward the open door. "Move it." He didn't yell his demand or even raise his voice, he didn't have to. He punctuated his command with a playful swat on her rump. That millisecond sensation of his hand against her flesh, followed by her cry of surprise and her speedy departure through the doorway, brought a devilish grin to his face. Dave raced behind her to the waiting car and after half pushing, half assisting, he managed to get her and her skirt in the passenger seat and the door closed without anyone losing a finger or toe.

Dave couldn't help but laugh as he climbed in and the engine roared to life. His rearview mirror revealed that the door behind them as it swung open and an irate general manager stood silhouetted in the light from the hallway, as the Ferrari screamed up the ramp and out of the loading dock.

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Eric watched the taillights of Dave Batista's Ferrari fade away and he smiled…true he _was_ angry, but at present he was more interested in seeing how he could benefit from developing this into something that would get him ratings. He had made a big to-do about how he wanted to keep this match under wraps, when secretly he had been looking for a way to bring some controversy back to RAW. He was desperately seeking an avenue for which to make Teddy Long's show look like an episode of _Mr. Rogers Neighborhood_.

And now he'd found it…oh, of course, he could make it look like he was only going to make the girl follow through with the match because she had run away tonight, when in fact he had harbored no intention whatsoever of ever letting this be a private, local fans only exhibition match. Yes, he had every intention of gleaning as much benefit from this match as he could. The idea had struck him after Chris and Christy had left his office. In his experience, nothing done in secret ever brought a man any measure of glory, and nothing that Eric had ever done had been for any other reason than gain, monetary or otherwise. This was no different…this match might be a ratings booster after tonight, being as it was his intention to hype the match at the pay-per-view by debuting it the night after, on RAW. He hadn't counted on there being a bonus involved and now after having seen her being whisked away by the Champ…he realized he'd finally found a way to put Dave Batista under his thumb…and keep him there.

Bischoff let the door close as he stepped back into the hallway, chuckling and then whistling a familiar tune. He was about to go inform Chris about his opponent's hasty departure. If nothing else, he could get some satisfaction out of seeing Chris lose his temper.

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It was dark and the breeze was light, carrying the heat away with it, giving a much needed sense of rejuvenation. The gentle wind was tugging at her silk skirt and swirling it above her calves as she leaned against the railing of the bridge to watch a gondola float effortlessly along below them. The _River Walk_ of San Antonio was alight with bright and busy storefronts and tourists, college students and locals, all searching for a good time.

None of that seemed to catch her attention or his, for that matter. The earlier mysterious and rapid exodus from the venue was now forgotten or at least it seemed to be, as the strains of music pumping from the open door of a bar floated past the two of them and became lost in the rise and fall of chatter and ambient noises along the bridge.

He was asking her more questions, less threatening questions than he had before, her favorite movies, songs, things to do in certain towns she had visited since her employ with the WWE. Nancy answered each in turn and asked her own. They found that despite their nervousness, conversation seemed to flow easily and even when he found the courage to ask her what she planned to do for a few days between now and their arrival in Puerto Rico, Nancy didn't feel the strange sense of panic that she always did when someone began to trod dangerously close to the grounds of her past and her privacy.

"Are you going home?" It was a simple question, but he watched her stare into her glass as she answered, as if there were something of value in the bottom of it.

"I haven't decided yet." Nancy took another sip and swirled the amber liquid around.

"Where is home?" Dave remembered she had told him that she hailed from Amarillo, but that didn't mean that Amarillo was her home.

"Home is on the road…" She said smiling, masking the wound again so he wouldn't see it. "But as far as where I get my mail…that would be Amarillo." There was no harm in telling him that much, she supposed after all they were just friends it's not like she would have to come clean to him one day. "Are you going home?" She asked wondering if he still lived with his ex-wife or if he roomed with someone else…the thought of him bunking up with another woman put a strange taste of acid in the back of her mouth.

"I'll drive home tomorrow and park my car for awhile…then I'll fly to Puerto Rico the day before the pay-per-view, so I can be there to receive my daughters when _they_ fly in." He smiled again when he thought of his girls. As much fun as he'd been having in the past week, he missed his daughters and couldn't wait to spend some much needed time with them.

"Where's home for you?" Nancy asked, probing further, hoping that he was blessedly single and living alone. Strange how she couldn't put her finger on why it even mattered.

"Seattle." I just bought a condo several blocks away from my youngest daughter's school. He knew why she was asking, he could tell by the look on her face that she was wondering if he lived with someone. "I should probably air it out when I get there. No one's been in there in weeks, so it's probably stuffy as a tomb." He caught her look of satisfaction out of the corner of his eye.

The two of them continued conversing as they stood on the bridge watching the gondolas floating by, some filled to the brim with people and some holding only a pair of lovers. The breeze began to pick up, bringing with it the tempting smell of rain. Nancy admired him as he leaned against the rail, the occasional gust fluttering the lapels of his grey shirt, which he had unbuttoned to just above his chest. She liked the way he told her about his past and was able to laugh when he did so. He had nothing to hide and he trusted her enough to talk to her about it. She watched his adam's apple bounce when he laughed, and she couldn't stop staring at the twinkle in his dark eyes when he spoke. Every few minutes when he subconsciously rewet his lips with his tongue, she felt her heart stop. Several times she wondered what it would be like to feel those lips on hers, and several times she had to turn to look at the river because she could feel a flush creeping up into her cheeks.

Clouds began to cover the moon, and the soft wind became decidedly rougher, whipping her skirt and her chestnut curls into a frenzy. Nancy laughed when the first blast of air spun her skirt almost up to her hips and she held on with one hand to her glass and the other to her skirt.

"You're determined to give me a free show aren't you?" Dave asked, laughing and taking the glass from her so she could hold on to her skirt.

"I guess so." She giggled and handed him the glass, following him back into the bar so he could return their empty drink glasses to the waitress.

Dave Batista turned and took her hand again, the same way he had in the arena and led her back out onto the walk. The wind was whipping with near gale force and she held onto his hand and her clothing as they beat a hasty retreat to his car. He helped her inside and then closed the door, thoroughly enjoying the attractive mess that the wind had made of her curls. He might have found himself standing and staring at her through the passenger window all night if the rain had not begun to fall. Instead he ducked into the car and flipped on the wipers, giving himself a moment before deciding to take off in the rain.

"You never did tell me why we left so fast tonight." Nancy reminded him, as she folded her hands over her beaded handbag, fiddling with the latch.

He remembered he had promised to tell her, but he had hoped she would forget, at least until he found a way to explain to her about the match and show her some simple tricks to keep her from being hurt. "Ah, that's right…I did promise to tell you about that, didn't I?" His voice was low and his eyes darted back toward the steering wheel as they sat parked in the open, rain drops pelting the priceless car.

"I'm guessing I'm going to be in a lot of trouble when I get to the pay-per-view next week." She said, hoping that whatever it was, she could at least leave without a huge blotch on her résumé.

"_You_ won't, but I will." He admitted searching her eyes for a sign of what she was thinking. He didn't really want to tell her about the match, he didn't want to spoil the nice night they had…were still having. He was sure that when he explained his actions to Eric that he would see fit to leave Nancy on staff, he might even realize how stupid his idea for putting her in a match had been to begin with. "I wouldn't worry if I were you…he was after me…it had nothing to do with you." His voice was reassuring and kindhearted.

She nodded and accepted his explanation, belying any suggestion that she believed otherwise. "Well, as long as it's you and not me." She joked after a long second of silence.

"Thanks a lot." He laughed and put the car into gear, taking off slowly into the dissipating rain.

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"Are you kidding me?" Christy nearly snapped the cell phone in half at the suggestion. "I can't believe you're willing to waste time on something like that! Your never gonna find any dirt on her, she's like Betty Freakin' Crocker…you'd come closer to finding dirt on the Pope!"

"_Everybody_ has a past, Christy." Triple H examined one of his roughened knuckles, as he spoke in hushed tones into his cell phone from his master bathroom in his Greenwich, Connecticut mansion.

"Not _her_." Christy whined. "You know she left with him again. I don't know how the hell she found out about the match, but she did and she rode off with him _again_. I'm sure she complained to him about being afraid or something and so he felt sorry for her, like always."

"Stop it!" Triple H bit out over her tirade. "You really don't have the capability to shut up long enough to regain your focus, do you?" He had often recently wondered if dealing with her was worth the hell he went through while getting his goal accomplished. "I asked you to do _one_ thing, and I would appreciate it if you did that _one_ thing! Otherwise, it's going to be a lot harder to get that information later than it will be if you'll just get it in gear and do it right now!"

"How in the hell am I supposed to do that? Huh? In case you forgot, she rooms with her fat ass friend _and_, it's not like she's just going to invite me in for pizza and beer!" Christy threw her hand up in irritation.

"Well, in case _you_ forgot, she's on the River Walk with Dave Batista at this very moment and her fat ass friend is out with Vicki from the make-up department…there is no one in her room right _now_, so get your ass up there and find what I asked you to find!" He cut her short by hanging up the phone.

"Stupid ass." Christy muttered. Now she was really in a pickle, but the wheels in her mind weren't rusted too badly, thank God, and an idea came spinning out of nowhere. She slid her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans and hustled into the hotel through the service entrance at the back of the building.

A late night Quinceañera was being catered, and waiters and waitresses, servers and people of all kinds were bustling through the back halls that lay all adjoining to the massive kitchen. Christy scanned the room watching for any sign of someone who looked as though they might be in a position to help her. It was several minutes before she spotted a maid shuffling down the hallway with her hands full of towels. She looked tired and ready to go home, but Christy had a plan.

"Miss!" She called to the housekeeper, and then rushing to her side, she helped grab some of the towels, lightening the grateful woman's load.

"Oh, thanks." The woman shuffled and wielded the large ring of keys as she prepared to open the store room.

"I hate to ask…" Christy began, "but I wondered if you could help me with a little surprise for my fiancé?"

"Sure." The woman seemed eager to simply finish whatever it was she had to do and get on home, she probably had blisters on her feet Christy thought. Her reply, though lackluster was the response that Christy was hoping for.

"I was trying to get room service to bring some champagne up to our room, but because of this event going on, they're really bogged down."

The woman nodded her agreement, noting the crowded state of the back service hallway.

"So I came down here to get some and I realized I left my key card…up in the room." Christy gently smacked her forehead with a palm, feigning stupidity. "Anyway I was able to order the champagne, and they'll bring it up in a minute, but I was wondering if you could let me back into my room?"

The woman looked at Christy for a moment and then remembering the hotel policy, she pulled a clipboard from off of the supply room shelf. "What's your room number?" She listened as Christy spouted off Nancy's room number. "And your name?"

"Nancy Adams…but it'll likely be under my fiancé's name…Max Hadaway." Christy cooed. "I can't wait to surprise him!"

The charade paid off as the woman laid the clipboard back on the shelf and said. "If you'll just meet me up in front of your room in five minutes I'll let you in."

"You are a _doll_." Christy rewarded the woman with a million dollar smile and an excited hop, before the woman smiled in return and then locked the storage room.

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Minutes later the room was open and available for Christy. She tipped the woman a twenty and then slipped inside, closing the door behind her and then making a face at the woman through the wall. "That was too easy." She snickered and turned on the bedside lamp. The room was incomprehensibly neat, except for the things which she concluded must belong to Max. She opened drawers, but all of Nancy's things seemed to still be packed away neatly in her two suitcases. She rifled though the first, being careful to refold anything that she ruffled up. Nothing.

The next suitcase proved just as fruitless, until when reaching down to skim the bottom, her hand scraped on something sharp yet flat in the lining of the side of the suitcase. Christy slid her hand over the subtle object and then found the break in the seam where the flap lifted up and exposed the hidden article. It was nothing more than a tiny, plastic, wallet insert, but it happened to be exactly what she was looking for.

She slid her fingers in between the sides and pulled out a social security card, one credit card and two pictures. She held up the pictures near to the bedside lamp. The first was of a man with what appeared to be his daughter, it had been bent in order to fit inside the wallet insert, and as she unfolded it she saw that it was very old. Turning it over the date said December 20, 1979. The girl was small, dressed in jeans and a thick winter coat, tossing bread to a duck, while her father a handsome man stood smiling behind her tossing his own bread to the ducks.

The next picture was even older. It was a standard Army Issue basic training photo of the same man, the date on the back of it said 1965. He must have been in Vietnam. He was a good looking man whose face lacked the stern gaze of a soldier and whose eyes had an affable glimmer. He appeared as if he might break into a smile at any second. She folded the larger picture carefully remembering to put everything back in its place. She copied the social security number in pen on her hand returned the card and replaced the insert back into the lining of the suitcase. Christy was lugging the heavy piece of baggage back to its original spot, when she heard a key card in the slot.

Christy reached over and snapped the lamp off, and dropped to her stomach on the floor between the beds, rolling under the one closest to the door, heart pounding, and a prayer on her lips. Light flooded under the doorway as the door opened revealing the shoes of a man. It was Max, Thank God…maybe. She might be able to talk her way out of the room if she ended up stranded…at the very least, she had her cell phone in her pocket and the hotel's card in her pocket as well, she could call the hotel from under the bed and direct dial his room over and over until he got pissed and went down to talk to the desk clerk. Before the plan could fully take shape in her mind, she was rewarded with a different alternative.

Instead of flipping on the main light, Max had simply headed straight for the bathroom. He had not, however closed the bathroom door, and Christy could clearly hear the stream of piss hitting the water as he relieved himself. It was now or never as she rolled out from under the bed and tip-toed across the floor to the door. The bathroom light was on and so she knew that the light flooding in from the hall would not be detected. She opened the door soundlessly with a grimace on her face and slipped through the crack closing the door behind her.

She cried out in surprise as her shoulder bumped into the housekeeper, who was standing in the hall behind her. Christy knew that surely the woman had come to confront her. Undoubtedly she knew that Christy wasn't who she'd claimed to be.

"Did you get everything ready?" The maid said pleasantly even through her tired eyes.

"Almost…I have a few more things I have to run out and get, while he showers." Christy hitched her thumb over her shoulder indicating that he was inside and wished not to be disturbed.

"Well I thought that I would take the liberty of bringing you the champagne that you said you requested. Unfortunately they didn't even have it on record that you asked for it, even after two times!" The maid held up a bottle of Cristal and two glasses. "Please accept our apologies, between this Quinceañera and all of the other things that we have going on in the hotel, it must have slipped by _again_…this is compliments of our chef."

The enormous rush of adrenaline that Christy had been feeling seconds ago, had turned into dread and now satisfaction. "Why, thank you!" She accepted the free booze and glasses and hugged them against her chest as the maid excused herself. Once the elevator door shut behind the woman, Christy let out a huge nervous sigh of relief. "Holy _Shit_, that was close!" She whispered as she hunkered down the hall toward the stairs…at least if she couldn't enjoy this with Dave, she might as well enjoy it with Lillian.

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The lobby doors slid shut behind them, blocking the Gale Force winds, and allowing them a respite from the driving rain. Dave had offered to drop her off at the door and then meet up with her after he'd found a parking space, but she was having none of it…she told him she loved the rain, and then she had un-strapped the high heeled sandals and suggested they make a break for it.

He was surprised that for someone who didn't really seem to like fitness, she was fairly fast. Her curls were wet now, the way they had been when he'd come to her room earlier today, and her silk skirt was drenched, clinging to the curve of her derriere and the form fitting v-neck sweater she was wearing hugged her like a second skin. He was barely conscious of the fact that he too was wet from head to toe. Walking behind her in the lobby was providing him the most delectable view he'd had in days and all he could do was follow.

She pushed the button and they waited, laughing about the rain as the elevator made its way to the bottom floor.

"I hope your clothes aren't ruined." It wasn't what he'd wanted to say, but then what did you say to someone who made you so nervous. The two stepped inside of the elevator.

"Look at you." She pointed at his wet clothing. "I like the rain though…it reminds me…of something…nice." She stopped before she spouted off too much.

"Me too." He nodded. "It rains in Seattle a lot, and it always reminds me of my little girls." The elevator stopped on her floor and again he decided to walk her to her door.

"When are you leaving tomorrow?" She asked, hoping that she would see him again.

"Hopefully after you meet me for breakfast again." He was going out on a limb, being bold, and still trying not to sound too confident.

"That sounds nice…" Nancy said accepting his offer. "But it's my turn to treat this time, promise?" He still hadn't let her pay him back.

"I promise." His voice was deep and liquid, huskier than before…he was mere feet from her as she advanced closer to her door.

"I know I have a key in here somewhere." She joked as she fumbled through her purse. Holding the shoes and digging through the purse at the same time proved to be harder than she'd thought and she only succeeded in dumping the few items in her purse directly out onto the hallway carpet.

She bent over to pick up her lip-gloss and then her license, but they both attempted to pick up the keycard at the same time. And they both smacked into one another head first. His bulky frame didn't move, but her lean body bounced backward like a tennis ball and she hit the door back first.

"Ow…" She groaned, laughing and holding her forehead, leaning back against the door.

Dave too, held his forehead with one hand, and _her_ keycard in the other, after his initial shock, he began to laugh out loud. He wasn't surprised that something like this had happened. She was a mess. A wet, clumsy, down-to-earth, absolutely irresistible mess. He would never have to be anything more than what he truly was if he stuck with her. Because she _was_ what she was and that was good enough for him.

She brushed her wet curls back and laughed through a humiliated pout. "How embarrassing." Nancy said softly biting her lip and rubbing the center of her forehead with her fingers. Her smile changed when she saw the look on his face, the way he stood there just staring at her. Nancy couldn't read his expression, but she knew that there was no exasperation in his gaze, no rejection.

He couldn't speak as he stood there, seeing the subtle parting of her lips and the way her eyes deepened into liquid pools when he looked into them. Dave stepped closer, unable to stand so far away. He told himself it was only because he wanted to give her the key, but he knew that was a lie. He planted his hands lightly against the door one on either side of her head and inhaled deeply, rewetting his lips. He smelled her again, that fragrance that hadn't been lessoned even by the rain. Intoxicating. What in the hell was that? It was more like something he'd tasted before rather than smelled, sweet and fresh…It was driving him mad thinking about it. The way she was looking up at him was wrenching his self-control away. His stomach was cramped into a hopeless wall of anticipation.

He was tired of holding back, tired of imagining what it would be like to touch her, and yet restraining himself for the sake of being honorable. He wouldn't wait anymore, couldn't wait and leaning in he grazed his lips against hers. The fact that she didn't seem surprised, but rather she appeared to waiting on it, sent a shudder of yearning through his body. He could stop, he told himself, he _could_ control this. But he knew that she was effectively pinned, even though he wasn't holding her and that simple bit of knowledge prevented him from ceasing. The faint yielding of her mouth as he pressed his lips against hers again, told him that he could not stop. It let him know that she didn't want him to.

Dave ran his tongue softly and slowly across the inner edge of her upper lip and he could taste the sweet warmth of the rum that had been in the drink he'd bought her. He coaxed her mouth open wider with the gentle cajoling of his lips and when a small moan escaped from her lips he clenched his fists against the door, nearly bending the key card.

Nancy was testing the waters, matching the caress of his tongue with her own, though she clenched her shoes in one hand, her other hand was wound nervously into the fabric of her skirt. She was so afraid that if she touched him, if she let her arms snake around his neck the way she wanted to, that she wouldn't let go, she knew she would let him do whatever he wanted and so she bade her hands to stay put.

Her breathing was becoming erratic and she felt a rush of moisture and a pleasurable throbbing at the center of her femininity. His lips were exploring her neck and yet he hadn't touched her with his hands. She tilted her head back and clawed mercilessly at her skirt as he ran his tongue from the base of her throat to her chin where he stopped and nibbled and then captured her mouth again.

'_You have the key! Open the door! Push her inside and take her!'_ He was fighting the animal for all he was worth, battling the suggestions of depravity, he would not taint this opportunity by giving in to the beast. He increased the intensity of his kiss beginning a foray on her, imprisoning her lips with his own, tasting her heat and determining to lose himself in the feel of her tongue gently teasing his. He wanted to wind her hair around his hands and steal her breath, he wanted to sink himself inside of her and not come out again, he wanted to take everything that she was for himself, so that no one else could have it. But he couldn't do it here, he couldn't do to her what he had with all the others. She was worth more even if she didn't think she was.

Dave pulled away, reluctantly breaking the kiss. He pressed his lips against the spot just in front of her ear and with a pained expression, he spoke against her skin.

"You'd better go to bed before I do something we _both_ regret." His voice held the raspy tone she loved, but it was thick with sensation and she knew he was practicing amazing restraint. All she was capable of doing was nodding, if she had been able to speak she was afraid she would have confessed that she was willing to take the risk of regretting.

His hands were still planted against the door on either side of her head and his heart was beating a path in his chest, threatening to dent his ribcage. Dave palmed the keycard, and with his free hand wound it around her lower back and pulled her forward away from the door, pressing her against himself so that he could unlock the door. Her hand was suddenly on his chest and the feel of it almost broke his resolve, but he held her there, shaking as he slid the keycard into the lock and turned the lever. She stepped up on her toes and kissed him again, taking his bottom lip in between hers for a split second. He tightened his hold on her and pulled her against him even harder. He didn't know how much longer he could stand firm.

"Goodnight." She whispered against the fullness of his lips and she felt his breath catch.

He let her go, looking down on her as he handed her the key. She retreated through the open door as he whispered that he'd see her in the morning. He watched grudgingly as the door closed, knowing that if he were any less a gentleman, he would smash the door in with his foot and do whatever he wanted. Instead, he pressed his hands against the doorframe and let his forehead fall against the door with a '_thunk'. _

"It's gonna be a long night, Dave." He said to himself as he turned and leaned backward against her door. "Oh, God" He could still taste her on his lips and he wanted more. Since when had he become addicted to her?

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Nancy shut the door behind her and let her shoes fall to the floor. She dropped her hand bag on top of them and pressed her back against the door. She heard a gentle thump from the other side of the door and closing her eyes, she could still feel his lips on her throat.

"Could you guys just go fuck and get it over with, already?" Max snapped on the bedside lamp.

Nancy jumped and then scowled at him. "You were spying."

"Damn right I was…you guys move way too slow." He shoved the covers back and walked across the room to the mini fridge taking out a soda can and popping the top.

"Well…that's my business." Nancy said, still trembling, especially in places she'd thought had long ago stopped working. "What are you doing back so soon anyway?"

"It's one a.m., Nancy." Max said with an air of petulance.

She shrugged digging through her suitcase for her pajamas. "I just assumed that you'd be out till all hours with Vicki." Nancy was concerned by his apparent lack of enthusiasm.

"Well, I did too, but…" He drank from his soda and then shrugged clicking on the television with the remote.

"Oh, no you don't." Nancy tapped the button on the television turning it off in an attempt to force him to share the details.

"She got super inebriated and I ended up having to carry her _out of the bar…_and put her in the cab…_and_ carry her to her room…and _knock till her friends came_ and took her off my hands." He explained in morbid monotone and then he sighed, hitching up his sweatpants. "I did have a good time up to that point, though. I just never really got into those kinds of gals who have to be drunk to have a good time."

"I _know_ what you mean." Nancy said hinting at an underlying truth.

"But you had fun, yeah?" Max asked raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah." Nancy turned to hide the smile and knowing that those simple words couldn't possibly describe any aspect of tonight she tucked her pajamas under her arm and ducked into the bathroom as she responded. "I had a lot of fun."


	16. Chapter 15

Uncommon Sense Chapter 15  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"You have to walk carefully in the beginning of love; the running across fields into your lover's arms can only come later when you're sure they won't laugh if you trip."

Jonathan Carroll

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It was frustratingly impossible, she thought as she leaned her head back against the plane seat, trying desperately to think about something _other_ than him. Nancy couldn't even shut her eyes without seeing his face, remembering his dangerous and enticing kiss in the hallway by her door or recalling the breakfast they'd shared before he'd driven home and she'd flown out to Max's family's Colorado ranch. His touch his smell his taste, he was permanently emblazoned on the landscape of her addled brain.

Her cluttered mind kept drifting back to the breakfast last week, when she'd snuck down to the hotel restaurant more than an hour early and taken the same table they'd occupied the first time they shared breakfast. Nancy was pleased that he hadn't been there waiting on her, and she'd had to instruct the waitress to charge breakfast to her own room. Little did she know, she had already been beaten to the punch, by Dave who had cleverly made previous arrangements with the wait staff the day before. Sneaky fellow. She grinned remembering how fiercely stylish he had appeared when he strolled into the dining room with a satisfied smile on his face. It always seemed to her as if he was hunting something or someone being as he appeared to some extent unapproachable until you got to know him. His eyes held a brutally intense glimmer as he swept his gaze around searching for her and then they softened, when he caught her attention.

Nancy found she had a difficult time looking him directly in the eye, wondering if he had regretted kissing her the night before. "Did you sleep well?" She asked, nervously struggling to make any conversation that made some sense.

"Not a wink." He grinned and pulled his chair out.

Nancy was afraid to ask why, and so she didn't. Likely it was the exact reason that she hadn't slept either.

He had brazenly palmed her cell phone from next to her place setting and after finding the _contacts menu_, he programmed his numbers into it, telling her to call him as soon as her plane landed in Denver. Then he had taken the liberty of browsing her phone until he'd found the _options menu_ and then programmed her number into his own phone. He hadn't asked if he could do it, but she didn't mind. Something about his audacity to do so was attractive to her.

Nancy been prepared to get one up on him by paying the ticket, but the waitress swiftly bypassed her and thanked Dave for his generous tip the day before and commended him on his intelligent decision to keep his restaurant tab open. She then turned to Nancy and with genuine remorse, she apologized profusely explaining that she had been instructed not accept payment from her, and that she must have gotten mixed up.

Nancy smiled and reassured the waitress that the 'mix-up' was no problem, but when the woman walked away she arched one elegant eyebrow at Dave.

"I knew you were gonna do something like that." She let a grin drift across her lips, when he laughed. He was clearly pleased with the fact that he had beaten her again.

As the plane rumbled through the sky, Nancy could recollect his second request for her not to forget to call him when she landed, as they stood by his car giving their goodbyes. She thought about how it felt when he'd leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, telling her he was glad she didn't have a bruise, and how his hand on her shoulder had felt when he had done so. He had tilted her chin up and stroked his warm lips over hers so blissful soft, her heart nearly stuttered to a halt. Not more than a second's contact and then he'd traced where his lips had been with his thumb as if he were sealing her with it somehow.

She stood there trying to find something witty to say, but the words were gone, as he took one of her silken curls between his thumb and forefinger and then grinning rakishly, he tugged it gently and let it bounce back. The gesture didn't mean anything in particular, he'd just always wanted to see one of those curls spring back, it wasn't the only thing he wanted to do with those curls, but he wouldn't indulge his fantasy on her just yet.

"Call me." He said in a near whisper and then ducked into the car.

The loud announcement from the overhead speakers told her that they were about to land in Puerto Rico. She pulled the tiny cropped sweater that she had been using to cover her face, down into her lap and straightened up in her seat, a feeling of juvenile giddiness washing over her at the thought of seeing Dave again. They had spoken countless times since parting company the week before and usually always with Max hovering over her shoulder eavesdropping, leaving Nancy trying frantically to hide when she heard the phone ringing.

Nancy remembered how at one point she'd taken to pushing Max away and walking out of the massive ranch house onto the trail that led to a large rock formation by the river. She'd been trying to engage in conversation with Dave as she sat cross-legged on a boulder, when she felt something hit her shoulder. Turning, she saw that the object in question was a wadded up piece of paper, and when she opened it up it read – _Tell him you need to see his big Greek sausage! _She had whipped around with a scowl on her face to find Max hunkering behind the boulder, tossing more wadded up suggestions at her. Nancy had a measure of satisfaction when she'd bounced a nickel sized pebble off of the top of Max's head, eliciting a yelp. She'd even had to lie to Dave when he'd asked what the noise was.

"Just skipping rocks." She told him innocently. "Keeps the wildlife away."

And now the plane was touching down on the tarmac and she would be seeing him in person again. Nancy stretched and poked Max in the arm, "You wanna go get lunch?"

"You just had breakfast." Max reminded her.

"Correction…" Nancy informed slipping on her sunglasses as she shuffled out into the aisle. "I had a bagel and a glass of orange juice…the two of those do not a breakfast make."

Max nodded his head eagerly, interested in food as always. "Maybe there's a buffet, Vicki called and asked if I would consider forgetting her blunder last week." He said remembering her all of a sudden.

Nancy couldn't help feeling a bit apprehensive about Vicki. Not just because she was older than Max, but because she was also in a different social league than Max. It just seemed too good to be true, that someone like Vicki, who had dated wrestlers and sports agents would be interested in Max. Not that he was a bad choice, she reminded herself silently. "And so you said…." Nancy prompted.

"Weeell, I told her I would think about forgiving her if she could eat more than me at the buffet." He joked.

"That relationship is as good as over." Nancy jabbed. "I'm the only one that can eat more than you can."

"I said I would be happy to go out with her again, just sans the booze this time." Max sliced his hand in the air as if to say 'No'.

"Good for you, Max." Nancy encouraged as she stepped off of the plane and was swiftly swept into a swirl of fragrance. The runway and surrounding areas had been designed to be hospitable to the tourists and the pathways to the airport were lined with hundreds of exotic flowers that she had heard of and hundreds more she'd never even seen. It was a medley of tantalizing fresh perfumes and a calm placid breeze lifted her hair away from her face. This was heaven and she couldn't wait to get to the hotel cabanas. Partly because she was apt to have to fight Max for the best bed if she wasn't in the room first, but mostly because she knew Dave would already be there and she had little more than a couple of precious hours with him until he would be picking up his daughters.

As much as she wanted to meet them, she respected his wish for time alone with them. She knew how hard it might be for his daughters to accept someone in their father's life, even though she recognized this was little more than casual dating. She would back up and give him all the time he wished.

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"No I don't need to go in. I just want you to put these on the pillow for me." Dave explained to the Puerto Rican Maid as he held up flowers in one hand and money meant for a tip in the other.

Through a series of nods, hand gestures and smiles he was able to get the housekeeper to lay the large bouquet of Calla lilies, tied with a bright yellow silk ribbon and adorned with a rice paper card onto the pillow of the farthest bed in the room that Max and Nancy had reserved. He had chosen that bed because it had the best view of the water below, and because Nancy had informed him of her constant feud with Max for the most comfortable bed. He was a little envious that Max would be the one rewarded with her smile when she found the flowers and not he himself, but he'd get a smile of his own later on the beach. At least that was what he was hoping for.

Dave glanced at his watch again and then traipsed out of the duplex style cabana onto the rock path that led back to his own private two bedroom cabana. Nancy would be here soon and he knew once she found the flowers and his invitation, that she would meet with him. It was a treasured trifle of time that he had with her, but something was better than nothing and his hope was that once he was able to introduce his daughters to her that she might be able to share in the time they would have in the next few days. There was no harm in keeping his fingers crossed, but he preferred just to say a silent prayer as an added measure of security.

He slid the key into the door and turned the antique brass knob, swinging the ash wood door open wide. Dave loved the cabana with its open windows and comfortable beach-style furniture with dark woods and light, crisp upholstery. Flowing cream-colored, tulle curtains fluttered in the windows, casting reflections in the highly-polished, ebony wood floors as the breeze came through unobstructed. A stroll through the living area into the master bedroom revealed a large bed seated high off of the floor, draped in more of the tulle that could be drawn closed for the purpose of keeping the insects out. The bed itself was layered with yards of fluffy white and cream fabrics with splashes of sage thrown in, and what must have been at least twenty extra unnecessary pillows.

His bare feet sank into a plush, white shag area carpet that covered most of the bedroom floor. It had been placed at an angle to emphasize the expanse of the room exposing sections of the ebony floor at angles in the corners. An antique Louis XVI high-back chair with fluted legs was boldly juxtaposed with a round, leather-topped pedestal table, adorned with upholstery nails around the sides. A deep chocolate leather bench with rolled arms rested conveniently at the end of the large bed, presenting a perfect place for him to pack his picnic lunch.

Stepping through the master bedroom into the master bath, he found he felt right at home. The wood floors were honed to a rougher finish than those of the main areas, more than likely it was to prevent anyone from slipping and it lent a distinctly rustic feel to the room. Pickled walnut made up the basic cabinet design and the antique chandelier hanging above the massive claw foot tub seemed to be at odds with the giant stone shower stall. It was a harmonious, eclectic mixture that pleased his senses and made him feel as if he could throw his towels and clothes in the floor if he wanted and not be ashamed.

The tall casement windows in the spare bedroom were fully opened freely allowing the curtains to flap up along with the southern breeze. Dave knew his daughters would enjoy this room. On one wall was a highboy-styled armoire that housed a medium sized television and an x-box 360 game console. Without a doubt, this would most likely be the thing to get the most attention. The two closets adjoined, which might be a problem if Audrey really intended to bring her whole room as evidenced by her recent e-mails. He smiled thinking about how she always managed to pack everything in sight and he admired how his ex-wife had the motherly discretion to wait until Audrey slept to repack her possessions and pare them down to a respectable load.

The twin four-poster beds were draped with more of the same beautiful tulle, but the bedding in this room was a thick buttercup yellow with accents of bright white and deep sapphire blue. They had their own smaller bathroom with much less in the way of amenities, as there was only a soaker tub against one wall, another breathtaking chandelier and a blue and yellow toile de joyeau bench seat. It was immeasurably better than a five star hotel and he was glad that the company had listed this place as the one that would host the superstars for this pay-per-view and the following RAW. It was vastly unlike the museum quality suites he was used to, the one's Christy had always wanted to be in. He found his stress evaporating every time he looked around.

He hurried and finished packing the picnic lunch, and snatching up his keys and the picnic basket Dave Batista headed off to the beach.

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Nancy snickered, as Max walked ahead of her blocking the pebbled path to the cabana, determined to steal the best bed from her.

"Move, Max, that's not fair." She pressed one flat hand against his back, trying to offset his steps, but to no avail, and then finally gained the upper hand by purposely stepping on the heel of his shoe, causing it to slip off as he walked and then slithered past him, despite his protests and curses.

She inserted her key into the lock and pushed the door open, widening her eyes in surprise. It wasn't as posh as many of the other cabanas but the room was beautiful. Dark wooden floors, thick, fluffy light green bedding and large picture windows that had been left open to the breeze, causing the leaves of the ficus trees in the corner to ripple and sway. Looking at the netting covered beds Nancy spied a floral arrangement on one bed but not the other. She was sure she knew why.

"Oh thank God!" Max shouted, having finally made it in behind her. He shoved Nancy out of the way, body-checking her into the door frame as he ran and launched himself like an overweight human missile onto the bed where the flowers lay peacefully. In the process, he lodged himself in the creamy netting causing the contraption that secured it to snap loose from the ceiling, trapping him like a salmon in a fish net. He landed on the bed like a 300 pound, spent shell casing, causing the bedframe to creak and belch a groan of objection, and then seized the bouquet of Calla Lilies, ignoring Nancy's look of utter horror.

"Sonuva…" She began, gaping open-mouthed at the devastation Max had left in his wake. Nancy began to laugh with relief when she realized that they would be able to reattach the netting, but still she was amazed by his ability to wreck a whole room in seconds and she shook her head in amusement as she placed her suitcases on the floor.

Pulling the card from behind the yellow ribbon that tied the fresh grouping of flowers together, Max pretended to read it, detailing his own perverted version of what it might have said.

_'Oh Nancy,'_ he began to read, trying to deepen his voice to match that of Batista's. _'I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that night we almost 'did It', and I feel quite sorry that I didn't have the balls to slip you a hot beef injection, and let you see how it feels to have a Greek salami in your…'_, he turned away from her as he spoke in order to fend off her greedy hands. "Yeeeoowch!" Max howled when Nancy took hold of a finger's full of flesh in the area on the back of his arm, just above his elbow, pinching the dickens out of him. And then taking advantage of his momentary lapse in guard, she reached around and clutched the bouquet and card, whisking them both away in one fell swoop.

She rapped him on the head once, hard, with the card and frowned turning to walk away.

"Damn that hurt!" Max rolled over on the bed, reaching out his free hand, he thumped her in the back of the leg just below where the line of her shorts ended.

She turned around and whacked him on the head with the card again. "Leave me alone!" Nancy glared at him trying to appear tough. "And get off my bed!"

"_Your_ bed?" He frowned. "I got here first!"

"Nooo, you didn't get here first." She said dragging out the 'no', a shit eating grin on her face. "Dave did." She held up the card and Lilies.

"That's not how the rules work!" Max argued, referencing the stipulations that had been a part of their game since the day they had chosen to start rooming together. He ticked the regulations of the game off on his fingers, listing them in turn, and then modifying them to suit his own needs.

"It was never a part of the rules because neither of us have ever had anyone else in our rooms." She stressed. "Besides, he must have known I would like this bed better than the other one and he claimed it on my behalf, and so thereby, you are shit out of luck." Nancy stuck her tongue out at him.

"Ooh, you suck." Max gritted his teeth and pressed her own sweater against her face pretending to smother her. He settled down long enough to survey the damage that his mid-air acrobatic maneuver had inflicted and then he asked. "So does that little card, mean you won't be treating me to a buffet lunch today?"

"Yep…" Nancy smiled as she read the card.

'_Meet me at the beach on the south side of the cabanas, 11:00. – Dave.'_

Nancy slid the card back into its envelope fighting off Max's hands as he reached greedily for it again.

"What's it say?" Max whined.

"A whole lot less than what _you_ tried to make it say." Nancy shoved it into the side pouch of her suitcase. "No peeking while I'm gone either."

"I just hate you." Max said feigning fierceness and as a joking measure of revenge, he forcefully kicked her suitcase over flat on its side as he walked past to check out the bathroom.

Nancy chuckled as she searched for a vase in the kitchenette to place the calla lilies in. "If that was meant to hurt my feelings, then you're gonna have to try harder than that." She referred to him kicking her suitcase.

"You should see this bathroom!" Max announced eagerly. "I have an amazing view of Enrique and Anna from my window! Seriously they're making out right on the beach, where's your camera!"

"Where?" Nancy flew into the bathroom, digi-cam in hand, ready to sell her photo to the highest bidder.

"Ah! Ha…" He teased. "I was just kidding, but the tub's huge!"

"You're so mean." Nancy remarked and gathered up her swimsuit and sarong, shooing him out of the bathroom so she could change.

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Moments later he observed her as she was strolling barefoot through the shimmering white sand, a water-bottle dangling from one hand and her flip-flops in the other. The soft, warm wind had taken to teasing up the curls that had escaped from her attempt to restrain them in a clip secured at the back of her head. He admired the refined slant of her neck, as she raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and began to search the beach front for him. She wore a two piece bathing suit, and covered up the bottom half of her body with a silken sarong, but even that couldn't hide the elegant curve of her hips, and because it hung so low, it gave him a delectable view of her flat tummy. She seemed to prefer carrying her shoes to actually wearing them and he smiled wondering how she'd made it this far in life without having injured her feet.

Dave knew why she was having difficulty finding him, and a low laugh rumbled from his throat as he watched her walk, sand flittering off of her feet with each step. At 5'3" she walked tall, her back pridefully straight, even if she tended to put her head down when she felt embarrassed. But she didn't seem to be embarrassed right now and the silent confidence she exuded made her very attractive. And she wasn't aware of how many male eyes were trained her, despite the fact she was the only moderately covered woman in a sea of scantily, clad ladies drenched in oil…but he was.

He thoroughly enjoyed watching her without her knowledge because it gave him a perspective of what she might have been experiencing when he'd caught her in the rafters watching him. It was innocent voyeurism he told himself, as she moved ever closer, glancing around into the crowd for any sign of him.

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Nancy knew that he wouldn't have stood her up, but she didn't see how she could have possibly missed him. He didn't seem to be anywhere on the beach. Another glance at her watch told her that she wasn't early and since it was barely 5 minutes after 11:00, she couldn't think of any reason that he shouldn't already be here. She wasn't frustrated, just worried. Had he changed his mind? Stepping through the sand, she sighed and turned her head again, shielding her eyes from the sun, hoping to spot him in the crowd.

From behind her she heard the familiar rumble of his voice, as he spoke.

"I hope I chose the right bed." The low tone and the sensuous innuendo caused her to turn, smiling…a warm fluidic sensation in her belly.

Nancy's expression changed quickly however. She was suddenly slack-jawed as she took in his appearance, noting that he lay back negligently on a large blanket. His chest was covered in a huge garish Hawaiian-print shirt, which explained why she couldn't find him, as she was looking for muscles and tattoos. The thing that caught her completely off guard was the fact that perched on the top of his head was the most impossibly large, wide-brimmed, tattered straw hat she'd ever laid eyes on. So large in fact, that it could only be likened it to an oversized sombrero.

An almost hysterical burst of laughter bubbled up and out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"You have got to be kidding me." She said her jaws still open wide and disbelieving laughter escaping again, as he stood to his feet.

"What?" He asked innocently, his mouth curving into a smile. The arrogant tilt of his head made the hat look even sillier.

"You…uh…" Nancy stuttered through her laughter, scratching her head as people began to look at him. "You remind me of something straight out of a Jimmy Buffet song."

"Well you know they're always saying you should protect yourself from the sun." He reasoned, moving closer to her.

"Anyone within a half mile of you will be protected as long as you're wearing _that_ thing." A barely repressible smile tickled her lips as he stopped inches in front of her. "You're incorrigible." She admitted in a near whisper as he swept the hat off and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Yes ma'am, I am." He drawled…His voice, seductively dark, as he spoke low in her ear, using the gargantuan hat as a shield for their faces. He ducked his head and his lips glided over hers, teasingly slow, and achingly soft, hinting at something else much darker and fiercer. The kiss was over much sooner than she wanted it to be and finally she let him lead her away to the blanket and the lunch he had pulled together as a surprise.

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Dave watched intently as the throng of people deplaned. He was looking for his little girls. He had barely been able to contain his excitement the entire afternoon and had chattered Nancy's ear off about his daughters. Pulling his hand out of his pocket to check the time, he lifted his gaze and caught a glimpse of Vanessa's dark, shiny hair behind a group of college aged boys, and when the boys veered off to the left, he spotted 5-year old Audrey, holding Vanessa's hand. She was wearing her Mickey Mouse ears and a pair of oversized blue plastic sunglasses and with childlike innocence she appeared to be completely comfortable in the get-up. He was instantly reminded of how much he adored her.

Vanessa was the first to spot her father, and she smiled brightly, waving and then leaned down to tell Audrey. "There's Daddy." Audrey's head snapped up like it was on springs and she hollered out to her father. Breaking free of Vanessa's hand, she ran at breakneck speed, the ears and glasses bouncing hopelessly down her face and head.

He caught Audrey in mid jump and held on to her tightly. "It's been too long between hugs." He said through clenched teeth, as he closed his eyes and cuddled his daughter. He hadn't known it was possible to miss someone so much.

"Daddy, I missed you, and we got to switch planes, and I asked if I could see the captain but they didn't let me, but there were these guys on the plane that kept saying Vanessa was hot, but I told them 'no she wasn't, cuz there's air conditioning', but they just laughed and laughed and I was real mad at them so I had to do something and they won't be laughing for very long. Can we eat now?" Audrey prattled through a breathless stream of announcements, at the speed of light, all while holding her father's face between her tiny hands in order to make sure he was looking directly at her the entire time she spoke.

Dave laughed squeezing her tighter, and then he crinkled his nose. "I missed you." He told her, his voice thick with emotion and then he put her down so he could give his attentions to Vanessa, who was looking nervously in the boy's direction.

She leaned into her father's side for a hug patting him on the back.

"Hug me like you mean it." Dave said, as she wrapped her arms around him grinning.

When she leaned back, she glanced again hesitantly at the group of boys. "Daddy?" She said getting his attention. "Audrey put something in that boy's back pocket and I didn't see exactly what it was." Vanessa swallowed and pursed her lips together. "I almost didn't notice it, and it's not like I was going to reach into his pocket and get it out."

Audrey had realigned her mouse ears and glasses and they covered her eyes so completely, that the only part of her expression exposed to Dave was the tiny chin that quivered at the knowledge she might be in trouble and the little red lips that had formed into a crooked pout. Dave took a deep breath and leaned down to speak to his tiny daughter. "Audrey, did you put something in that boy's pocket?" He asked his voice stern but soft.

She nodded, her chin beginning the familiar quiver that stabbed at his grown up heart. Audrey might be a mischief maker, but at least she admitted it. He ducked his head, trying not to crumble. "What did you put in his pocket?"

There was no time for Audrey to answer. The boys, who had been laughing and with one another, had approached the counter of the small coffee cart, all of them choosing to take a seat in the barstools at the nearby bistro table.

A suspicious and barely audible popping noise occurred after the tallest of the boys sat in his chair.

"What the?..." The boy stood up and reached behind him, his hand sliding through a long streak of red paste on the back of his pants and shirt, which bore an uncanny resemblance to ketchup. He grimaced and pulled his hand forth, glaring at the red mess. "How the hell did this happen?"

Dave's eyes widened and his mouth formed an 'o' of surprise. He whirled around to look at Audrey, whose face was void of any sadness, a huge, white-toothed grin splitting her face from ear to ear.

The boys began to look around, for the culprit. Taking this as his cue to leave, Dave cleared his throat and spoke. "Uh…girls, lets go get your luggage." Lifting Audrey into his arms, and grasping Vanessa's hand he whisked them away from the deplaning area and as he walked swiftly in the other direction from the bewildered boys, all he could do was fight like hell to keep from laughing his ass off.

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Dave tucked the suitcases into the trunk of the rental car, and slid into the driver's seat, glancing back to make sure Audrey had buckled up. He pulled out of the airport parking lot and Vanessa turned to him.

"Can we go shopping?" Vanessa asked smiling, flashing the perfect row of white teeth that had thankfully never needed braces. She pulled her long straight hair back into a ponytail and shifted so she could face her father, despite the constriction of the seatbelt.

"As if you don't have enough clothes." Dave concluded. "I felt how heavy those suitcases were."

He listened to her laugh and he realized with a twinge of pain in his heart, that he was missing his daughter's lives. Vanessa was so mature and had lost the childlike edge to her features, beginning to look more and more like Dave's own sister Lydia. Vanessa, he thought ruefully was becoming a woman, and she was beautiful. Man, were the boys in for it. She was tall like her father and athletic, but very dependable and organized like her mother.

Audrey on the other hand was a walking bag of practical jokes, a natural disaster waiting to happen, not unlike Nancy in some ways only Nancy's jokes were unequivocally verbal rather than physical. Audrey was a surprisingly petite handful and had to be watched closely at all times. She was bright and sharp-witted, bearing an uncanny physical resemblance to her mother and yet was a near carbon copy of her father in terms of temperament

"The only thing _I'm_ buying when we go shopping is a _weapon_!" Audrey's voice took on a devious quality that instantly evoked the ire of her older sister.

"Just stop it, Audrey!" Vanessa whirled her head around and wagged a finger at her sister. "What you did back there was really horrible." Her voice indicated disappointment rather than malice.

"You don't even get to speak to me! Cuz why I'm still mad at you for telling Daddy on me!" The grossly large sunglasses hid her eyes, but Dave could see the fierce scowl forming on her mouth as he observed her through the rearview mirror.

"Audrey, I _knew_ when you saved that ketchup packet from lunch you were up to no good…what would have happened if he got in his mom or dad's car and it busted in there? That would have been even worse and _this_ was bad enough!"

"Girls." Dave calmly interjected, but was cut off.

"I _know_ it woulda been worser! I'm not _stupid_!" Audrey's words took on a hard edge, despite the five year old tone of her voice.

"Daddy can't take you anywhere!" Vanessa piped up. "Because of how you behave..."

"He can so take me anywhere he wants to!" Audrey yelled, missing the meaning in Vanessa's comment. "I'll let him! And I can be _better_ anyways!"

"Oh yeah!" Vanessa huffed. "Like you were _better_ when you put dirt in the gas tank of Mr. Anthony's lawn mower, or when you taped Saki's back feet to his butt with duct tape and we had to get the Vet to shave him? Maybe you were being 'better' when you poured ranch dressing in my backpack?"

"I was tryin' to show how dogs can too walk with only two legs, and so what about ranch dressing, I didn't mean to pour it I was putting the bottle in and the lid fell off! You should know if you're gonna take the rabbit to show and tell and you bring him lettuce, you need Ranch dressing!" Audrey was screaming at this point, and the mouse ears had fallen off. Her sunglasses still remained, but with a disheveled slant, that revealed one eye and left the other covered.

"You two Stop!" Dave hollered over the boisterous girls, his deep voice cutting into the tension like a sharp blade.

Both girls fell instantly silent, Audrey began to put her ears back on and reposition her sunglasses, while Vanessa stared at her feet and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly an attribute acquired from watching her father.

"We have less than a week together. Let's not spoil it by fighting." He said trying to be stern, when what he really wanted to do was inquire how his youngest daughter had conceived of all of the pranks she had played lately. It wasn't as if he approved of her mischief, but he had to admit that for a five year old, Audrey had more cunning than most adults. He had to admire Vanessa for her ability to put up with it. He'd often believed that Vanessa had the patience of Job and even with her atypical outburst, he knew that she was fiercely protective of her baby sister.

"Sorry Vanessa. "Audrey said from the back seat, her swinging foot making a constant, 'thump', 'thump', 'thump' against the back of her sisters seat. "It's only those mean ole' boys made me mad when they laughed at me and they said about how you were hot, when I knew you were not hot, cuz there's air conditioning on that plane." Her explanation made a slightly miffed Vanessa smile.

"That's okay, Audrey." Vanessa responded softly, forgiving her sister. "What they meant was…" She stopped when she saw her father's subtle headshake, indicating this explanation was something better left to a pro, like her mother. "Thanks for sticking up for me." Vanessa finally said to her sister.

The trio pulled into the mall parking lot and took a space near the door. Dave hadn't been shopping with his daughters in many months and he was silently praying that Vanessa wouldn't buy any clothing. She was so much like her mother in the respect that everything had to fit perfectly, lie just right way against her figure, be just the perfect length and so on. Audrey would be content to run around all day in a Halloween costume or with her ballet leotard and a sheet tied around her shoulders for a cape.

Dave accompanied Vanessa into several stores, but she appeared unusually bored with the thought of buying clothing. She was much more interested in going to a book store. Audrey however had been hanging on her father's arm, tugging and begging to visit the toy store.

"In a minute, your mom said you need swim suits." Dave reminded Audrey as Vanessa picked through the racks.

"Okay." Audrey seemed content for the moment, but shortly thereafter she was tugging on his big arm again, reminding him of how close they were to the toy store.

Vanessa agreed that since they couldn't find any clothing of interest and no swimsuits that her father would allow her to wear, that they should indulge Audrey's desire to see the toy store.

Entering the vast store was a little intimidating, even for Dave. The walls were cluttered with every possible gadget that a child could want. Lights, sounds, movement, and kids, lots of kids…running around through the aisles and between the racks, but not Audrey. She was spellbound, with her mouse ears and sunglasses still on, and her mouth open wide, she drank in all of the hullabaloo around her without making a peep. When she finally found her sense of being, she took a few steps in the direction of the plastic play gear and toy guns.

Vanessa hung on to her father's hand as they followed along behind the tiny spitfire. Even as a teenager, Vanessa was still very much attached to her father and had never been embarrassed to be seen with him. They watched as Audrey, seemingly led by an inner instinct, browsed the aisle until a plastic combo pack, complete with a bronze breast plate, helmet and plastic sword caught her eye.

"Oh, man! That's _awesome_ Daddy!" She tugged her sunglasses off and passed them backward to Vanessa who held on to them as Audrey stood in wide-eyed awe of the invaluable combo pack. "That's _just_ the kinda weapon I need!"

A twitch of a smile wrenched at Dave Batista's lips and he leaned down so that he was on his daughter's level. "You're not planning on using that weapon on anyone, are you?"

"Only bad guys if they come around." Audrey admitted, shifting her gaze back up to the prized combo pack. "I could just love that, Daddy." She knew she couldn't make her Daddy understand how important it was for her to have something she could jab at the next boy who laughed at her or teased her. "This would have helped if I'd had it when Bobby Miller was breaking my crayons in class…if I woulda had that, I coulda…" She caught the frown that crossed her father's face and she stopped in mid confession. "I won't use it on anybody, Daddy. I promise."

"That's my girl." Dave winked, kissed the tip of her nose, straightened her mouse ears and stood up, pulling the combo pack off of the shelf. His daughters could have had anything they wanted, he knew he would have caved, and so he was doubly glad that they never had the shrewdness to take advantage of him. All told, they left the mall with Vanessa, the new owner of a handful of books and a pair of basketball shoes and Audrey with her combo pack and a red Slurpee stain down the front of her pale yellow shirt.


	17. Chapter 16

Uncommon Sense Chapter 16  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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It's the soul's duty to be loyal to its own desires. It must abandon itself to its master passion.

**Rebecca West**  
_Irish critic, journalist, & novelist (1892 - 1983)_

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Rolling the soft Yellow towel up and tucking it under her sore arm, Nancy was ready for a night time, hot Jacuzzi soak. The soreness from her workout with Dave Batista had finally set in. She had awoken from her nap to the sound of the bedside alarm and the urge to shout out in pain when she reached to rap the snooze button and was met with concentrated tenderness in her chest and biceps. Nancy sighed and smiled, remembering that the soreness was a very pleasant side effect of a workout with a very tempting gentleman.

She slipped on her black flip-flops and picked up her key and a bottle of water, her most highly revered nutritional supplement. Nancy may not have ever eaten right, but she drank enough water for two people and that was better than nothing. She left the lamp on and then slipped out of the cabana, glancing around carefully, heeding Dave's advice to pay attention when it got dark. He'd asked her not to go out by herself, but that couldn't be helped, Max was still out on the town with Vicki and it wasn't exactly safe to say that Nancy had a whole lot of friends in the Diva department. Besides, how harmful would it be to take a soak in a hot tub managed by the cabanas?

The pebbles on the darkened path crunched underfoot as she made her way down the south side of the row of cabana's to the fenced area that housed a huge multi level pool with a stunning waterfall, two Jacuzzis and several seating areas with fire pits, all in a Tiki-hut style that suggested complete relaxation. As she opened the tall wrought iron gate, Nancy could see the spot where she and Dave had shared a picnic lunch together. Looking, she noticed that the beach was now inundated with college aged kids and young adults engaged in debauchery, no doubt. The loud music was filtered out into garbled and unrecognizable tones by the constant rustle of the palm trees above her as the wind coaxed them into a dance. She might be able to hear the music, but thankfully it wouldn't be enough to bother her.

Nancy closed the gate behind her and padded softly over to the farthest Jacuzzi. It had a beautiful view of a large cabana on the hill overlooking the beach. The cabana sat atop that hill so peacefully, curtains fluttering in the lit up windows. She wondered who might have been lucky enough to have procured that particular cabana. Nancy placed her towel and belongings on the chair, nearest the Jacuzzi and slipped her silken sarong from around her waist, letting it fall onto the stone ground. Unable to resist the temptation of the clear bubbling water, she kicked off her shoes and stepped into the tub, her breath catching in her throat at the sudden heat of the water lapping at her skin.

Fully seated in the tub, she leaned her head back, a languid sigh slipping past her lips. The soreness was easing itself from her tired muscles and the feel of the warm water undulating across her chest and arms was bringing to mind imaginings that she had tried to stifle. No matter how hard she might try, closing her eyes only brought images of him closer and more vividly to mind. And any attempts at thinking of something else, only reminded her of how dull a memory was without him in it. Nancy hoped that he had been having fun with his little girls and for a moment, she felt a lump in her throat when she thought about her own father. She could remember him still, clearly and fondly, but along with that memory came the others, the ones after his passing and so she shook them away at the threshold of her mind, refusing to let them shroud her in fear and sadness.

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Dave changed the channel on the television in the front room of the cabana, so that he and Vanessa could watch the 'Twilight Zone', and then set the remote gently on the coffee table. Audrey had declined to join them for the episode, saying that she had to practice using her sword so that when trouble arose, she could be ready. A stream of "Hiyah's! And swooshing noises emanated from the girl's room, along with a very distinct soft, repetitive 'thwack!', that he could only assume was the contact of the plastic sword with the bedding. He smiled to himself, and glanced down at Vanessa who was applying the third color of nail polish to her toenails after having painted and then removed the previous two 'completely unsuitable' colors. The smell of nail polish remover, despite the open windows was suffocating.

"I'm gonna go check on your sister." Dave said blinking his eyes to stop them from watering.

"Okay Daddy, just hurry though, this episode is a good one." She looked up from her painting and raised her eyebrows. "Can you make popcorn on your way back?"

"Yep." He nodded, glad to have another excuse to free himself from the smell of the polish remover. Standing, he stretched and then turned and followed the high pitched battle cry that he was sure belonged to Audrey.

He poked his head around the corner to find his youngest daughter engaged in combat with two pillows that had been stacked lengthwise, on top of one another, tied in the middle with one of his belts and leaned up against the empty wall. He watched as Audrey spun and twirled, wielding the sword above her head, her long hair, flying outward behind her, from underneath the helmet. She stopped and then jabbed the sword fatally into the 'pillow man', and then obligingly she made the gurgling death sounds that she was sure he might have made if he were real.

Dave closed his eyes and smiled, shaking his head. What a handful she was.

"Now you're dead!" Audrey declared to the 'pillow man'. "And that means that you won't be able to mess with no one, never again!"

Audrey then turned her attentions to another invisible enemy that was evidently appearing from the bathroom doorway. She let out another high-pitched battle cry and ran into the bathroom to attack.

Grinning, Dave decided to go change out of his dress slacks and shirt into a more comfortable pair of athletic pants. He walked softly down the hall so as not to disturb Audrey in the midst of battle and slipped into his master bedroom unnoticed. The wind was blowing through the open window bringing in the soft fragrance of the flowers outside. Ones, he thought with a smile, that Nancy would know the names of even if he didn't. He went to the window, and casually leaned against the frame, glancing down the hill to the spot where they had been today. His eyebrows pleated when he saw the beach full of partying teenagers, marring his view, but not his memory. He let his eyes travel to the gated in pool area and a very lonely soul soaking in the hot tub. Oddly familiar, she was. Dave narrowed his eyes and then catching a glimpse of the curls blowing softly around her face, he tilted his head. He would know those tresses from a mile away. The hair blew back away from her face and he could tell it was her. Alone, in the dark, with just the few lit-up torches around her, shining down on the olive skin of her face and shoulders. He took in a deep breath and swallowed. He wanted her here, up here with him…with them. It was strange he thought…wanting to share his baby girls, when before he would never have even considered it.

He looked around for Max, and frowned when he realized that he was nowhere in the vicinity. It made him a bit nervous that Nancy was by herself. He consigned himself to watching her for a moment, hoping that she would decide to leave soon and then he could maybe meet up with her on the path and walk her back to her cabana. He watched her roll her neck from side to side working out what he determined must be a muscle cramp, and even from his vantage point he could see the rise of her cleavage that was barely hidden by the water and that unfortunately demure bikini top. The sound of scraping metal drew his attention and he let his eyes follow the noise to the wrought iron gate that closed off the pool area.

A group of young men entered the pool area, with liquor in tow, complete with raucous laughter and their own portable party. Dave shifted uncomfortably against the window frame, biting the inside of his cheek. He watched with concern, as the boys passed the Jacuzzi and set up shop at a table not far from it, all the while settling a strange perusal on Nancy. She evidently felt uncomfortable, he surmised, for her head whipped up and her eyes opened as soon as they came into the surrounding area of her. He could sense her uneasiness from his position in the cabana high on the hill, and watched as she didn't allow her gaze to meet with any of the young men, who had now become oddly silent save for the occasional bubble of laughter. They seemed to be intently focused on her and it gave Dave such a strong sense of foreboding, and put such a strange taste in his mouth, he knew instantly something was not right.

He listened carefully all the while, not taking his eyes off of Nancy, as the group of men tried to engage her in conversation. Dave was thankful when he saw Nancy lean forward and prepare to exit the Jacuzzi, but alarm settled in again when she stepped out and a loud suggestive whistle came from the mouth of one of the men in the group. He watched as Nancy, opting not to take the time to dry off, hurriedly whipped the sarong around her wet body. A mistake, as from here he could see the way it clung to her curves, hiding nothing…emphasizing everything, and if he could see it, then he knew that they could also. Another round of lewd comments and attempts to engage her attentions, as she nervously fumbled to pick up her possessions. Her effort to leave the pool was stymied by one of the young men who stood up quickly, beer in hand and rushed around to the front of her.

"Don't go…" Dave heard him say. "Have a beer with us."

He could hear Nancy's polite refusal and he could see her attempt to pass the man, which was blocked by another in the group who was trying to hand her a beer. She politely refused again and Dave felt his heart thundering loudly in his chest as a third young man in the group stood and approached her from behind. He had seen enough and he stalked into the front room, swiping the room key up in his hand.

"Vanessa, watch your sister." He said. "I'll be right back."

"Where's the popcorn, Daddy?" Vanessa asked noticing the look of alarm on her father's face. "Daddy, what's wrong?"

"I'll be right back." He chose not to tell her. "Lock the door behind me."

Vanessa watched her father go, sensing his uneasiness, she walked past the spare bedroom into her father's room where he had been, wondering what might have caused him to panic.

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"I'm sorry, no thanks." Red flags were popping up all around Nancy and had been since the moment the motley crew had entered the pool area. "I can't." She reaffirmed, but with fearful anxiety, she noticed that her refusals were falling on deaf ears.

"You look like you might be fun to hang with." A tall blonde young man observed, his long, surfer-style hair, whipping past her face, bringing with it the smell of sweat and stale beer. He was rancid at best.

"Well, thank you, but I have to be going." Nancy was starting to feel desperate. "My friends are waiting on me."

"Just have a beer with us…" Another of them asked. "Just _one_ beer and then you can go hang with your pals." His words were terribly slurred as he too stood and on unsteady legs, approached her, holding a beer for her.

"No, I can't." Nancy said again, noting that her attempt to step aside was thwarted again, by the first of the men.

He reached out and grasped a stray curl, smiling, through his drunken stupor. "I like your hair…I like you."

"Please let me leave." Nancy reached out snapping her curl away from him, and in the process, dropping her key onto the ground.

"You know what I think, Mason?" A voice coming from behind her appeared to be much more sober and refined, but the oily tone of it had a lethal undercurrent that sent a shiver racing up Nancy's spine. "I don't think she has friends waiting on her…" He was just inches behind her and turning around, she missed her opportunity to retrieve her key, which was snatched up by one of the others in the group. "I _think_…that _she_ thinks she's too good to party with us."

'_Not again, Not again…'_ Her mind was racing in a hundred directions, unable to settle on any one particular thought and then the feel of a hand cupping her backside, flared her dander. "Let me leave!" Nancy said harshly, refusing to be a simpering idiot. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that she was afraid, and by God she was afraid. "I _don't_ wanna party with you, I have plans…" She reiterated. "Now give me my key and let me leave."

The mocking laughter of the group made her cheeks burn with embarrassment, but the huge hulking figure approaching in the dark, gave her a measure of hope. _'Please God let him be an employee.'_ She prayed silently as the figure approached. One of the men grasped for her towel. "Why don't you just sit down and party for a few minutes and then you can leave." The drunken suggestion caused nausea to roil in her stomach. Another hopeful look at the approaching figure and another hand was pulling at her from behind, wrapping around her stomach in an attempt to lift her off of the ground.

Nancy elbowed the offender sharply and was rewarded with a laugh and a slap on the backside, and now the figure shrouded in darkness became bathed in the light of the torches, causing her miniscule shred of hope to blaze into full fledged gratitude.

"Oh Sweet Jesus." She whispered, filled with thankfulness. "Dave!" She fought against the arm that was pinning her from behind to the chest of the drunken sloth, delivering another sharp elbow and being rewarded with another grunt.

Dave whipped open the gate, his blood boiling. "Nancy." He knew that she was terrified as she pulled away from the man and ran past them toward him. "Who are your friends?" He asked through tightened lips, his entire demeanor cloaked in eerie calm. He held out his arm as a refuge.

"They wouldn't let me leave." Nancy said tears rimming her lashes.

"I saw that." He told her, his voice deep and strained as he looked down into her face. The presence of her fear made him angry all over again.

"Well whaddya know the lady does have a friend." The apparent leader of the group said, his words hopelessly garbled.

"They have my key." She whispered to Dave. "I dropped it trying to leave and they won't give it back to me."

Dave nodded, knowing that if he didn't get the key they would have access to her even if she could get a replacement key from the office, that fact incited a strange twitch in his jaw. He placed his hand flat on her belly and guided her gently behind him as he made dangerously ominous eye contact with the group in front of him.

"Don't be mad, dude." The tallest of the young men spoke. "We just wanted to show the lady a good time."

Dave nodded his head. "Much appreciated, but I seem to remember the lady tried to excuse herself and you didn't get the hint." His eyes glittered threateningly.

"Well, you know women." The man informed. "They might say 'no', but inside they really mean 'yes'."

Dave sniffed and smiled arrogantly. "A matter of perception, I'm sure." He clenched his jaw again. "But at any rate, you have something that doesn't belong to you, so why don't you just hand it over and we'll call it a night."

From behind the shelter of Dave's enormous body, Nancy felt a measure of safety. Her heart was still rapping out a cadence of terror and her eyes still flicked nervously from one guy to the next, but something about Dave's act of placing himself in harm's way for_ her_, was soothing to her and stealing away the panic she had felt before he came out of the shadows to her rescue.

"Oh, the key." The boy said holding it up. "Seems to _me_ like she wanted us to have it, she threw it at my feet." This comment brought up another round of drunken laughter from the group. "I think I'll just save it for later."

"Okay." Dave said, nodding his head. "We could do that, but I think I'll just take it back _now_." His voice was so deadly serene that it made Nancy shiver.

"Take it back…" The boy repeated, laughing. "How is it you plan to do that?"

Nancy felt a ripple of muscles beneath the hand that she had placed in the middle of Dave's back, a split second before his arm shot out like a lightening bolt and took hold of the young man's hair. He pulled the boy down onto the ground and then kneeling he pressed his knee into the upper, back portion of the boy's arm, pinning him painfully against the stone. Nancy was in utter shock at the sheer speed with which he had put the young man down. Dave didn't have to pry open the fingers, the young man released the key immediately. Dave then picked it up and tossed it to Nancy who caught it and curled her fingers around it swallowing her surprise.

He lifted the young man up, releasing his arm and then giving him a small shove backward toward the rest of his group who now seemed less than eager to tangle with the lady and her friend.

"You fellows have a good night, now." Dave said straightening his shirt and smiling sardonically, his hand still reaching behind him, reassuring himself that Nancy was still there and safe.

The group said nothing as Dave and Nancy retreated, but after the gate had closed behind them and the two began to disappear into the darkness, one of the boys yelled out a few choice comments about steroid rage. Ignoring them, Dave wrapped his own shirt around Nancy's shoulders, laced his fingers through hers and walked quickly toward the path that led to her cabana. He glanced back as they walked in silence, making sure that none of the drunken group had decided to follow.

"I can't believe you came out here alone." He admonished her lightly. "I told you not to." He reminded her, the apprehensive tightness in his stomach beginning to lessen.

"I know." Nancy said, feeling a twinge of guilt and a hell of a lot of relief for his having been in the neighborhood. "How did you know I was down there?"

"I saw you from my window." He stopped in front of her door.

"I'm glad you came." Nancy said, the hidden tears dripping down her cheeks as she bit her lower lip trying not to cry. The sudden rush of liberation and the realization of how close she had come to being hurt, caused her to be all the more indebted for his apparent clairvoyance.

He enfolded her with both arms…just holding on to her, pressing her small body against his chest. He had known she was scared, and he had been scared for her, watching from the window while the boy's bad intentions had been thrust on her. He leaned his chin on top of her head and could feel her trembling…it tore at his spirit. He traced lazy circles over her back with his fingertips as he held her there in silence, until he was sure she was sufficiently comforted. He leaned her back in his embrace and smiled, the entire front of his body was wet because of her. With a little laugh he wondered how he would explain this one to his daughters.

"I'll walk you in." Dave said as she fought to put the key in the lock with her shaking fingers. He pulled her backward up against his chest to calm her down and whispered in her ear. "It's okay." Her hair tickled his neck and he reached his hand out, placing it on top of hers, guiding the key easily into the lock and then gently helping her turn it. She didn't open the door right away. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest. The solidity of him behind her, his arm around her waist, his hand still on her hand and his breath racing down the side of her face, was causing a heated coil to tighten and revolve in her belly. She felt safe from everything else _but_ him…and she knew that this feeling that had taken up residence in her soul, this utter desire for dependence upon him was going to cost her dearly…she was very far from safe right now…and she didn't care.

The familiar shock of desire pulsated through Dave Batista's body at the knowledge that she didn't want him to leave, and yet he knew reluctantly that he could not stay. Still…holding her against him was killing his composure…and he wondered if she could possible know what she was doing to him. He pushed the door open and a quick survey told him that they were alone. His hand pressed the door shut behind them, but he would not release her, he held her there in front of him, the curves of her back nestled against the front of his body, comfortably, perfectly.

"I can't stay." Dave whispered against the silken skin of her neck as his lips grazed a trail from just behind her ear to the outer edge of her shoulder.

"I know." She admitted as her arm rose upward and wound itself around the back of his head. She took in a sharp breath as his gentle nuzzle became a tender bite, his teeth scraping gently against her shoulder.

"I don't want to leave." He confessed as he ran his tongue up her neck and then pulled her earlobe between his teeth. His hand slid slowly down her stomach to the waist of the damp sarong and his fingers slid gently just below that hem line.

The tiny gasp that escaped from her throat was followed by her hand clenching his hair gently. This was sinful, and wrong and right, all at the same time. She began to throb in secret places as his hand teased a fiery path across her belly back up to her rib cage, all the while his lips assaulting her neck. She could feel his swollen member pressing against her back, solid and imposing and it forced her to lose all rational thought at the imagination of what it might feel like to have him inside of her. She spun around in his embrace, snaking her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his, nudging his lips apart with her own.

His hands became disobedient in their exploration of her waist, and her back and then the curve of her bottom to which he couldn't deny himself. He wanted to lift her up and press her against the wall and take her right then and there. And he would have…if she hadn't pulled away, her eyes a mix of liquid desire and remorse.

"Oh, God…Your girls…I'm sorry." He heard her say and he watched her chest rise and fall with each breath, emphasizing the tempting curve of those breasts that he had been about to sample for his own. She didn't step away, and he didn't release her. He was half tempted to say 'to hell with it all' and go ahead and finish the decadence they had started, but her rationale brought him back to the present and he nodded. "I better go." He sighed with the frustration of unfinished pleasures and then planting a very hard, very fierce kiss on her lips, his hand possessively cupped behind her neck, he backed away.

"I wanna ask you something." He stared at her red, swollen lips.

She stood waiting to hear his question, her heart pounding and her body aching and bereft.

"I want you to think about meeting my daughters tomorrow, at the arena." He wanted it desperately. He wanted _this_…all of it…his life with _them_…with _her_. He couldn't pin down any certain scenario that suited more than another. He just knew that he couldn't let her go. He wanted her in there somewhere, no matter what. "Would you consider that?"

She smiled in shock. "Are you sure?" She nodded, "I'd like that."

She let him kiss her again quickly, as voices could be heard from the pathway. It was Max and Vicki.

"I'll see you at the arena." His eyes held hers. "Don't go out alone again."

Nancy nodded and his hand slowly slipped out of hers as he turned to open the door.

"Max." He acknowledged the portly gentleman, who looked with unabashed curiosity at the very wet front of Dave's body, and the soaked body of his best friend.

A smile curved the corners of Max's mouth as he stood there holding Vicki's hand. "Dave." He regarded the tall wrestler in return. "Hope I didn't interrupt anything."

Dave didn't answer, he just nodded to Nancy, and said. "I'll get my shirt back tomorrow." With a wink he walked down the path and into the shadows.

"How in the hell do I always miss the good stuff?" Max whined, pulling Vicki by the hand into the room with them. "What was going on up here?"

"Nothing." Nancy said irritably, wishing they hadn't shown up when they had.

"How come you're wearing his shirt?" Max pointed toward the door where Dave Batista had just made his exit. "And why is he all wet down the front? Were you two doing the vertical mambo?"

"That's horizontal mambo." Vicki corrected him.

"Whatever…" He dismissed her correction and asked again. "Are you two doing the do?"

"If we _were,_ I wouldn't be telling you anyhow." Nancy sat down on the bed, trying to steady her rattled nerves.

"Well we just came up here to check on you and ask if you wanted to go to that Native dance thing on the beach." Max asked, still trying to envision how Dave had ended up all wet and half unclothed. "But it looks like you've already been doing some dancing of your own."

She dodged his jest "No thanks, I'm just going to hit the sack." What Nancy wanted _least_ right now was Max's persistent hounding and the curious ear of another RAW staffer…what she wanted _most_ had already headed back to his own cabana.

"Suit yourself, there's a buffet down there, though." Max tried one last attempt at persuasion.

Strangely Nancy didn't feel like eating. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and dream about what _almost_ happened before Max showed up. "Maybe some other time."

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Vanessa watched with fearful curiosity as her father stomped down the path below the cabana toward the pool. She could clearly see a group of boys harassing a lady. She could hear some of the terrible things they were saying and she felt sorry for the woman.

"What are you looking at?" Audrey piped up from beneath her bronze plastic helmet.

Vanessa jumped, startled and then scowled at her sister. "What are you doing in here? I thought you had monsters to fight or something."

"I killed them all…what are you looking at?" Audrey repeated, pushing aside the gauzy curtains.

"Don't make any noise okay." Vanessa ordered, intent on seeing why her father was going to the pool when he had promised her a movie and popcorn.

She watched as her father opened the gate. The men were putting their hands on the lady and trying to make her stay, Vanessa frowned. She realized that her father probably didn't even know the woman, but he had most likely seen the harassment from the window and being the sort of man he was, he had chosen to go help her.

"Why is Daddy down there?" Audrey asked in a low voice.

"He's helping that lady." Vanessa answered, her heart filling with a sense of pride for her father.

"I should go help him." Audrey announced sensing an impending battle and turned to go.

Vanessa snatched her by the collar and hauled her back to her side. "Get back here, you're not going out there…Daddy can handle it."

Audrey frowned and shrugged her sister's hand off. "Don't _yank_!" She snapped, but obediently stayed by her sister.

Vanessa watched the exchange with interest and couldn't help but think that maybe her Daddy knew the woman, because he had put his arm around her and then put her behind himself. She was still wondering about it when she noticed her father grab the man in front of him and slam him face first to the ground. This was _not_ wrestling…this was serious, and Vanessa felt a pang of fear as she clamped her hand over her own mouth to keep from hollering out. Getting her father's attention from up here might cause him a distraction down there and he might be hurt, she reasoned, and so she kept quiet.

Audrey, on the other hand did not. "Get him Daddy!" She piped up but Vanessa clapped her hand on Audrey's fearless little mouth and told her to hush. Both girls watched in shocked silence as their father heaved the young man up to his feet and then shoved him backward, and both were relieved as their father walked away, leading the lady away with him.

"I wonder who she is." Vanessa said to no one in particular.

"She's a pretty lady." Audrey said, yawning. "That's prolly why he beat up that mean guy. He likes helping pretty ladies, I think." She seemed satisfied with her own observation and she nodded sharply, causing her helmet to tip forward over her eyes, and topple to the floor.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, a smile crossing her lips. "Come on, it's time for you to go to bed." She led her baby sister away from the window, having a new admiration for her father.

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Dave Batista walked up the hill toward his cabana, his heart still pounding and his body still evidencing his reaction to Nancy's soft curves pressed against the much harder planes of his tall frame. He knew what he would have done if not for her sudden, apologetic reminder that he had daughters to think about. He thought ruefully that he would have made love to her right there in that cabana and not cared who knew…but she cared…she had cared that his daughters might have known, or wondered where he was. That meant a lot to him, because _they_ meant a lot to him.

He kicked a stray rock and it skittered out of his way, somewhere into the darkness that shrouded the pathway. It was impossible for him to deny how he was feeling anymore. Dave couldn't be true to himself if he didn't pursue this for all he was worth. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want her…and he knew, by God Almighty…he _knew_ that she wanted him. A wicked smile and a frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he thought about how sinfully her body had responded to his touch. The tender tilt of her neck and the soft gasp when he had kissed her there. It was evident in the way her ass had involuntarily pressed backward, ever so subtly against his groin, and in the way her stomach muscles had clenched when his fingers had dared to dip just below the line of her hem. It was unmistakable in the way her nipples had hardened against his chest when she had spun around in his embrace to kiss him. He _knew_ she was his for the taking and he was torturing himself with these small samplings of her, when what he wanted was to have it _all_, over and over again.

He groaned out loud. It was very nearly a growl as he yanked the door of the cabana open, hoping that he hadn't missed too much of the episode of Twilight Zone.

Vanessa who was still on the floor, this time with a can of diet soda and one of her books, looked up at her father with an expression of confused humor.

"Gee Daddy, if you wanted to go swimming you should have just worn a swimsuit." She smirked, looking evermore like her father, as she took note of the water stain down the front of his pants and his missing shirt.

"Is Audrey asleep?" He asked dodging the jest and noting the odd silence, the air devoid of any war cries.

"I think so." Vanessa responded sipping her soda. "I made her lay down. Don't forget the popcorn." She appeared to be fighting a grin.

He'd bet a dollar to a donut that his daughter knew where he'd been, he knew her well enough to know that her behavior was odd. He walked back to his master bedroom and upon seeing the bronze helmet lying in the floor by the window, he knew it was a bet he would have won. "Dammit." He muttered softly. He had never wanted his daughters to see him in a fight, and he was sure they probably had. He closed the door and took his pants off, slipping into his sweats and a tank top.

A few steps down the hall and he let himself into his daughter's room, grinning when he saw the mouse ears flopped onto the pillow next to his tiny girl. He tiptoed over to where she lay and sat down on the bed beside her, the mattress sinking down under his weight.

"Audrey…" He whispered, suspecting she wasn't completely asleep.

Audrey rolled her head over and smiled wearily at her father, through heavy-lidded eyes. "Hi Daddy…" She slurred, tired. "I'm glad you helped the pretty lady." Her voice was a murmur. "But next time you should take my sword."

So they had seen…he felt a twinge of guilt. "I did help the pretty lady and she's okay now, so go to sleep." He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Audrey yawned, "Well if you need my sword for anything, I hid it under my pillow."

He couldn't help but crack a wide grin, as he saw that the plastic hilt was clearly sticking out from her pillow where anyone could see it. He appreciated her attempt to hide it. "Thank you, I'll remember that." He rubbed her hair out of her face, and then shut off the lamp and made his way back out into the living room to his older daughter whom he was sure was eagerly and humorously awaiting an explanation.

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The next morning found Dave Batista shirtless, wrapped in the sheets of his huge bed, his arm, the only fully awakened part of his body, lashing out furiously in an attempt to hit the snooze button n the whining alarm clock. Finding it, he tapped it until the maniacal wail of the alarm silenced abruptly. He didn't bother to look at the time on the clock. He hadn't even remembered setting the alarm. Pulling fiercely at the covers, he realized with frustration that he couldn't get them over his head as he wished, but rather they were hopelessly caught on something of substantial weight and they refused to budge. Those cursed sheets also, he realized, came equipped with a persistent giggle.

Rolling over, he found himself face to face with the tip of a plastic sword and a smug, fresh-faced, fully dressed, properly helmeted, Audrey…the obvious source of the giggle. She laughed when he jumped with a start, and chortled when she saw him glare at the clock.

"It's Five Thirty, Audrey." He frowned, half tempted to yank the sheets out from under her so he could get back to sleep. Instead he rolled back over away from her and shut his eyes.

"I have come to get rebengeance for the poor people you promised to feed and you didn't!" She was in battle mode, the sword still dangerously close to him. She jabbed him in the back with sword. "Roll over…King…father!" She was making it up as she went, and he groaned, rolling over to face her.

"What are you gonna say about yourself and the poor people you promised to feed?" Audrey aimed the tip of the sword at his throat. "Remember I could kill you badly with this weapon." She warned.

"I don't recall ever saying I would feed _anyone_ until after 8 A.M." He gently pushed the sword away with his fingertips. "And if you kill me, then who's left to drive the poor people to IHOP?"

"I'm hungry Daddy." Audrey dropped the tip of the sword and put her face mere inches from her father's. "Did you know that Mommy taught me how to set my own alarm?"

"And thus, is solved the mystery of why I'm awake at five-thirty in the morning." Dave said sleepily, opening one eyelid to regard Audrey. "Go wake up the other poor people and I'll take you to breakfast."

Audrey squealed in delight and scrambled off of the bed. Halfway out of the room she realized she had left her sword and helmet, and she raced back in after them. Temptation got the better of her, however, and she couldn't resist another well placed jab in the middle of her father's big back. She was rewarded with a howl and a chance to dodge a flying pillow as he rolled back over on the huge bed.

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Nancy rolled over again, her eyelids popping open like roll-up window shades on the fritz. She huffed and readjusted the covers, afraid to look at the clock again. The sun hadn't even come up yet, Max was still asleep, as evidenced by the loud snore falling out of his open mouth, which prevented any attempt on her part to fall asleep again. Her dreams hadn't been much of a help either. They were a collage of faces she didn't want to see, in situations she had almost been able to forget, she had half considered going down to the bar for a drink to help her sleep, but opted out of it, remembering that Dave had told her not to go out alone.

And then there was _him_, and the unforgettable feel of his body against hers, she groaned and flopped onto her other side, squeezing her eyes shut again. He was so completely under her skin that she couldn't even get through an hour without seeing him in her mind's eye or remembering his mouth on her body. Realizing that trying to sleep was completely futile she tossed the covers aside and headed for the shower.

Max, on the other hand, had been awake for the past hour or so, faking sleep, and listening to Nancy toss and turn like an insomniac. He couldn't quite understand why this whole friendship was affecting her the way it was, and why they hadn't just gotten over the whole newness of it and admitted the obvious affection they held for one another. He decided it was time for him to have a talk with 'Mr. World Heavyweight Champion' himself. Oh, true enough he ran the risk of being pummeled, but something had to be done or else they might never get it over with.

Max also tossed the covers aside, looking at the clock and deciding on restaurant take-out, he pulled his pants on over his boxers and a shirt over his tank top and headed out of the cabana to the café to place his order.

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Sweat dripped in rivulets down the front of his body as he continued to ascend the never ending incline of the stair stepper, trying to finish his post-workout cardio. His stay at the cabana came equipped with access to the resort's gym and since there was no Gold's Gym in the near vicinity, he had chosen to do his workout here. He was impressed with how well the small facility was equipped. It had all of the free-weights one could want and plenty of machines, as well as a sauna and a whirlpool tub.

He was in mid stride, when the door of the facility swung open, revealing Max, clad in a frumpy pair of sweats and a tattered t-shirt. He nodded his head in recognition of Dave and Dave nodded back as he watched Max glance nervously at the equipment around him. He observed as Max chose a treadmill and stepped onto the belt, quickly surveying the onscreen instructions. After randomly punching a few buttons, the belt began to move slowly at first but as it picked up pace, Max began to have trouble with the runaway speed. He smartly jumped off of the belt, straddling it with a foot on either side of the furiously speeding belt. He was trying to find a button to slow the treadmill down, but before he could accomplish that, the belt, dangerously close to his undone shoelace, snatched it up and pulled his leg out from under him. Max's knee smacked against the runaway belt, but his arms with a mind of their own, held fast to the railing. This put Max in type of forward limbo, a veritable, athletic catch 22. The speeding belt was burning holes in the knees of his sweats. He knew that if he let go, he might smash his face into the machine and be hurt, but the friction of the belt as it tore at the flesh of his knees would surely cause him more harm if he continued to hold on...He tried desperately to regain his composure and run at the pace of the belt, but it was useless.

All the while Dave Batista was staring with a mixture of genuine shock and unchecked humor. He almost fell off of his own machine, so engrossed was he in the disaster unfolding only a few feet away. He found he would fare better if he simply got off of the stair stepper and went to give Max a hand. But before he could make his way over to Max to render him aid, the outsized fellow let go of the rails and was rocketed off of the end of the treadmill like a greased bullet. Dave could not control his laughter, and he had to turn away.

Max jumped up, hair disheveled, sweats ripped and blood dripping from his knees, shaking off the incident as if nothing had happened.

"They should put warning labels on those things." Max heaved and headed for the water fountain.

Dave laughed into his towel, trying to be subtle and then wiped the sweat from his face and chest. "You alright?" He asked fighting to keep a smile off of his face.

"I'm cool." Max appeared to be the picture of refinement, as he leaned against what he thought was a wall. It was however a large floor to ceiling poster suspended tightly between two columns, used to separate the stretching area from the rest of the equipment. Before Dave could warn Max, his arm went completely through the thick poster, promptly followed by his body.

"Shit." Dave mumbled, laughing, he didn't try to hide his amusement this time as he leaned forward and extended his hand. "Let me help you up, man." His shoulders shook with laughter as he lifted Max up onto his feet. "They should probably put a warning label on that too." Dave commented attempting to brush him off, but then deciding against it.

"No doubt." Max agreed, as he picked up the remains of his crumpled cup.

"You don't work out much, do you?" Dave assumed, believing that Max's visit to the gym had something to do with his foray last night with Nancy and nothing to do with getting in shape.

"No, I don't…I actually came to talk to _you_." Max cut to the chase, careful in how he chose his words. "I just thought that maybe if you liked Nancy…I mean you seem to like her…" He stammered. "Of course, you like her…because it's twice now that I've walked in on…"

"Wait a minute." Dave cut in. "You came down here to ask me if I like Nancy? This isn't junior high school, Max."

"I know, I just…" Max interjected.

Dave nodded and wagged his finger at Max, smiling. "It's an interesting game you're playing, Max…and a dangerous one." His eyes darkened ominously. Now would be as good a time as any to confront Max about what he knew. "Do you have a clue what type of element hangs out at arenas after a venue?" He watched Max shake his head nervously. "I didn't think so." Dave tossed his towel in the bucket by the door. "You're really lucky that my bag went missing and it made me late, unless of course you had something to do with that as well, because it was _me_ who stumbled on Nancy in that dark parking garage and not someone else with bad intentions."

"Are you insinuating that I…" Max was cut off again.

"I _am_." Dave snapped. "Watching you peek out of the back window of the bus confirmed that one for me."

"I didn't…" Max was cut off once more.

"Don't do that shit again." Dave's voice was treacherously low and calculated. "Now that we're clear on that point, I will say thank you, because if I'd not had the privilege of giving her a ride, I might not have…" he let his words trail off and then he extended his hand toward Max. "You're her best friend and I respect that, but don't put her in a bad position again." He shook Max's hand, watching Max swallow his fear and pride and then he walked past Max out into the morning breeze.

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"You don't need that. Audrey." Dave insisted regarding his daughter's apparel and dangerous battle accessories.

"I do _so_ need it and Mommy would let me have it." She argued lightly, her eyes filled with concern for her precious helmet, breastplate and sword.

Dave sighed and turned to Vanessa who was chewing the corner of her fingernail. "What would your mother say?" He knew that Vanessa was nothing if not honest and she would tell him the truth whether he wanted to hear it or not.

"You know how Mom is…she would let her wear the helmet and the shield thingy, but she would _for sure_ make her leave the sword." Vanessa was rewarded with an intensely vicious glare from her baby sister.

Although it wasn't complete submission, it was a concession he could live with.

"Hand it over." He held out his hand knowing that Audrey wouldn't relinquish it without one last defense.

"Daddy, rasselin' matches are dangerous places, I _need_ my weapon." She frowned and looked at him, pleading with her huge almond shaped eyes.

"You have a helmet and body armor, and a big sister, you'll be safe." He assured her and motioned with his hand for her to give over the weapon.

"I'll leave it in the car." She tried again.

"You'll leave it _here_." He demanded softly and she ducked her head, handing him her weapon reluctantly. "Good girl. Go get your shoes on."

"Thank _God_." Vanessa whispered with relief to her father as Audrey traipsed sadly down the hall.

They might have made her give up her sword, but she wouldn't go unarmed, she still had two weapons left at her disposal. One which she had saved from breakfast and another which she had been fashioning from two paper clips she had found in the pages of the picture book in the cabana kitchen. She wasn't sure what she would use that one for…she just knew that it was awfully sharp and pokey and would probably make somebody scream.

She tugged on her _Dora the Explorer_ shoes with the Velcro straps and then the idea came to her that she could put the pokey weapon in someone's shoe, but the only people that ever went without shoes around her were Daddy and Vanessa and of course Mommy, who she would never, _ever_ trick, because Mommy could spank ever so much harder than you would believe. She could put it in her sister's shoe, but Vanessa would make a mean face and tell Mommy and then she would spank her anyhow. Putting it in Daddy's shoe might be funny, because he made loud holler noises when he got hurt, but then he might tell Mommy and there would still be a spank.

Audrey decided that she'd probably better save the weapon for someone who didn't know her Mommy. She tucked it down in her pocket, wincing when it poked her finger, and nodded her head. It might not be a sword, but it would _definitely_ make somebody sorry they messed with her.


	18. Chapter 17

Uncommon Sense Chapter 17  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Level with a child by being honest. Nobody spots a phony quicker than a child."

**Mary MacCracken**

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A riotous flurry of activity and loud chatter throughout the arena would have tempted most anyone to buy earplugs and certainly tonight was no different. The pre-pay-per-view chaos was in full swing. Nancy weaved through the congested hallways and finally ducked into the bathroom so she could adjust her clothing and brush her teeth after the last-minute meal she had eaten in the bus on the way to the arena. Putting the toothbrush in her mouth she leaned over the running water and started to brush. She was bumped in mid-stroke from behind and when she raised her head she locked stares with Christy Hemme who was in the company of Maria Kanelis and Stacy Keibler. She turned back to the mirror and continued to brush.

None in the trio of girls looked particularly happy to see Nancy as they passed, dragging their heated gazes over her and then laughing, as if they had some hidden information that she herself had not been made aware of. The group of gossipers continued onward into their separate stalls and wisely, Nancy decided that she'd be better off just finishing up and getting out of there. She rinsed and shook off her toothbrush, jammed it into the side pocket of her make-up bag and swiped a coat of clear gloss on her lips. All the while, she could hear their laughter and discern the spiteful comments they were making about others on staff, people whom Nancy could only guess they would actually have to be nice to later. Most of the comments flew by unheeded as useless gossip, but her ears perked up when Christy laughed out loud and began to speak.

"Dave will be tired of _her_ any minute now…just like he was with all the others."

Nancy blew out a puff of air, rolled her eyes and zipped her bag amidst the tinkling laughter of the two other women.

"I think he has an affinity for minimum wage employees." Stacy interposed and the murmur of their concurrence along with the trickle of giggling could be heard. Nancy felt slightly wounded, because Stacy had been unquestionably kind to her less than a couple of weeks ago, but now Nancy could see the power that Christy had to poison people against her. It made her sad that people could be so easily influenced when popularity was an issue, and surprisingly it reminded her a little bit of high school.

"He just comes back to me each and every time though, the same way he did after his little tryst with Candace." Christy was quite obviously playing it up in order to get a reaction out of Nancy and it was enough of a reason for her to keep her cool if ever there was one. Nancy heard Stacy and Maria murmur in accordance like mindless puppets and she decided that giving this little sport of Christy's any credence whatsoever was foolish on her part.

True, the thought of Dave having been in bed with another woman, especially Candace or Christy, made her resentful and proved to her that anything she might have to offer Dave Batista would pale in comparison to what they had surely already given him. But the tiny voice inside of Nancy reminded her that if Dave Batista had really wanted a woman like Christy or Candace, then he would be with one like Christy or Candace and he wouldn't have given _her_ any more effort.

Leaving the bathroom, Nancy sloughed off the hurtful words and renewed her mind, setting it to the task of getting the wardrobe area in running order for the numerous repairs that would no doubt be coming her way during the pay-per-view. She opened the door to her domain and slipped inside, relishing the peace and quiet from this side of the door, thankful that there were no talebearers in here to steal her tranquility. She closed the door softly and turned to dump her bag in the floor. But instantly her visions of having a peaceful evening screeched to an abrupt halt. Nancy was greeted by Eric Bischoff, who had seated himself squarely on the table where she would soon be setting up her machines.

Nancy felt an unwanted pulse of adrenaline and a tremor of intimidation as he stood and straightened his dark grey suit jacket.

"Mr. Bischoff…hi." She tried to sound enthusiastic, but her attempt fell flat when her voice came out with a rasp.

"Let's talk." He said firmly, motioning for her to sit on the table where he had been and without argument, she complied.

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Dave Batista held the door open with one hand, and his bag in the other as his daughters slipped underneath his brawny arm and into the back halls of the arena. Audrey was fully attired in her combat gear, minus the sword, and Vanessa was now applying _another_ coating of lip-gloss. He was proud and smiling as the remarks about how beautiful his girls were, came bubbling up from some of the bouncing, cooing _Diva Search_ hopefuls and also from some of the other unattached Diva's.

Despite the kind words and their attempts to appear one hundred percent sincere, Dave Batista was prudent to their game and he knew why they complimented his children. It had recently become common knowledge that he was single again and dating, that fact alone had put a bull's eye squarely on his chest. But he nodded graciously anyway and led his girls to an area not far from where he knew Nancy would be engaged in work related commotion.

Rolling his bags against the wall, Dave spoke low to Vanessa requesting her help in keeping Audrey occupied for the next few moments. His ever dependable daughter nodded and held Audrey's hand protectively, suggesting that they go find a bathroom.

He watched his little girls walk down the hallway, Vanessa with her hand pointing as she showed Audrey several of the wrestlers that she had not yet met, and Audrey, with her helmet at a peculiar tilt and her _Dora the Explorer_ shoes lighting up with each step as she nodded, listening to the words of her big sister.

Dave rolled his bags into the locker room and hurriedly set out to find Nancy and then attempt to speak with Eric Bischoff.

He stepped out into the hall and signed several autographs in passing, shook a hand or two, all the while determined to get to Nancy before Eric did. He had a smidgen of explaining to do for whisking her away from the arena last week and for lying and telling her that their leaving so rapidly had nothing to do with _her_ when in fact, she was the _only_ one it had anything to do with. Dave shuffled past several rolling trunks attached to people, and people attached to miles of sound cable, with his only intent to reach _her_. His heart sank, when he watched the door of her _Wardrobe_ area open and then shut behind the short stance of Eric Bischoff himself. Dave was too late to head the general manager off at the pass and now he would be left to conduct damage control. He clenched his jaw and muttered a curse, which had recently become his habit when he found himself frustrated.

"Dave Batista…" A snide nuance in the tone of his voice, Eric regarded him with a smirk. He mulled over the delightful prospect of seeing Dave's expression when his new 'friend' was put in the ring with Chris.

"I assume you probably want to talk with me?" Dave asked, swallowing a snide remark. He let nothing about his disposition reveal the fact that he had the impulse to snap Eric in half. The emotionless look remained on his face as he waited for a response.

"No. Not really." Eric said inattentively, glancing at his watch and then turning to walk away.

Dave Batista glowered at Eric's back as he watched him saunter away whistling a cheery tune and then he turned toward the Wardrobe door, swallowing hard. He was certain that Eric's timely visit to the Wardrobe meant that Nancy already knew the about the match. Likely she would be angry with him but he just hoped she wouldn't dismiss him altogether. There were no noises coming from behind the door, so he raised his knuckles up, prepared to knock but decided instead that he might as well just go on in, lest she ask who it was and then tell him to go away when she found out. Dave closed the door softly so that she wouldn't hear him and stood awkwardly near it preparing for her fury.

She was standing with her back to the door, adjusting some mechanical component of a sewing machine, not barefoot this time, but in taupe heels with her shiny legs peeking out from beneath a baby blue skirt. The slight flirty flare at the bottom of the shimmering skirt made her look a bit taller than usual, although he suspected there might be a different reason for her stiff posture. Dave liked the way she left her arms bare, choosing sleeveless shirts…her arms were slender and elegant, reminding him of a ballet dancer, even if she did lack the grace. Every other part of her always seemed so tastefully covered that the small glimpses he _did_ get of her skin were all the more enticing. She looked refined as she tilted over to the side of the enormous machine to fiddle with something mysterious, something on the machine with which she seemed to be familiar.

Again he realized that he could have stood there drinking in the sight of her all night…time was passing and he was oblivious to anything but what was in front of him.

"Nancy." Dave spoke suddenly, unaware at first that the name had slipped from his lips. He had said her name less like a question, as if he wanted her to turn and face him but more as if it were an admission of who she was and how he might have just realized it. He watched her jump, the same way she had when he had come in unannounced the first time they'd had an actual conversation. When he'd apologized for Christy's behavior…it seemed like ages ago…and Christy, he realized…he'd all but forgotten her, just as he had known he would.

She heard his voice from behind her, startling her out of a reverie that was something akin to a nightmare. She had been thinking about Eric Bischoff's words, scared at the prospect of getting into a ring, when Dave's deep and rumbling voice reached her ears. Nancy was mad, good and mad. Scared too, but the calming liquidity of his baritone all but smothered the embers of disquiet that she had felt a few moments prior, like a salve on a newly inflicted wound.

"Hi." Nancy said looking over her shoulder. It was such a simple word that she said, but it hit him like an informal, impersonal bullet. Her face was missing the expression of anger he had expected to see, instead there was something vaguely impish behind her eyes that reminded him a little bit of his youngest daughter, and it made him nervous. Her curls were pulled softly, back away from her face, showing clearly the twinkle in her eye that hinted that she might be planning some hidden torture or vengeance to exact on him later. He would welcome it.

Nancy fiddled for a second more with the machine and then apparently deciding that it was ready for function, she placed the cover back on top of it and turned fully to face him, leaning back against the table, both hands on the table's edge with one ankle crossed over the other.

His heart all but stuttered to a screeching halt. By God she was stunning…he had not seen her from the front and could not have prepared himself for the low dip of the neckline that revealed the slight amount of sun induced color she'd gotten from their lunch at the beach. The diamond was in its usual place, quivering with her every breath, sending out brilliant glimmers of light, and reminding him of the way her skin had felt when he'd traced the curve of it with his tongue. He watched as she raised her arm and gently wagged a finger at him making the small silver charms on her bracelet shake lightly.

"You knew…" She said and smiled. She could not have guessed how deeply relieved that smile made him.

"You knew and you didn't tell me." Nancy was trying desperately to be miffed at him, but it was hard enough to think when he was around, much less hold on to any logical sense of anger. And now he was walking toward her, the vortex of sheer sexual attraction closing in around her…she turned and moved away to the other side of the table, intent on teaching him a lesson. Nancy hefted a stack of fabric onto the table beside the sewing machine and began to look around for as many meaningless projects as possible to keep him at a distance. She had determined that as long as he couldn't touch her then she might be able to hold on to a little shred of her obstinacy.

"I'm sorry." He said, bracing his hands on the table where she had just been, strangely irritated by the fact she had moved. "I had reasons…good ones." He wished she would look him in the eye with something other than that slightly devious fleeting glance, because that peevish little glimmer in her eyes made him more uneasy than showering next to Viscera.

"Mmmm, Hmm." She nodded smoothly, still absorbed in rearranging items in a tray. Nancy noticed that he was edging around the table and so she placed the tray back into the caddy and casually walked away from him toward the serger, suddenly deciding that the thread needed changing.

"Don't you wanna hear why?" Dave asked, thumping the caddy absentmindedly with his knuckle.

"Hear what?" She moistened her lip slightly with her tongue, noticing the sudden slight flare of his nostrils and then she pushed the lid of a trunk closed. Nancy saw his shoulders slump slightly and he rolled his eyes in near exasperation. "Oh…your reasons…" She nodded coyly and then looking at him, she shook her head. "You don't have to tell me…I believe you…If you say you had good reasons, then you had good reasons." She edged around the trunk and behind the rack of hanging clothes when she saw him begin to walk forward again. She couldn't stop the involuntary tremble that came over her when he advanced on her. It was as if she were being hunted. Nancy pretended to adjust the clothing on the hangers fighting to keep the smile from her lips. The look on Dave's face told her that she was succeeding in her pursuit to frustrate him, but oddly, she found she was frustrating herself at the same time.

"Could you…could…" Dave slid several hanging shirts to one side of the rack, trying to see her. "Come out from behind there, would you?" He said frowning, making an attempt to peek around the rack that could not have possibly been more crowded with clothing than it was at this very moment, he felt like throwing it across the room.

"Oh, in a minute…I just have so much going on around here…" She said grinning behind the rack where he could not see her. When she heard him huff in frustration Nancy had half a mind to laugh out loud, but she kept silent, behind the rack. She knew he wanted to talk to her seriously and she knew she had no right to be very angry, after all everyone had reasons for keeping secrets…she knew _that_ better than anyone. Still the knowledge that she was able to tease him, the way he had done to her, made her feel a little bit like the one in control, _even_ if she wasn't.

Her charade however, was over as quickly as it had begun, when without warning the heavily laden rack scraped noisily out of the way, as if it were light as a feather. Dave had shoved it aside as effortlessly as you please, determined not to have to contend with it. Amidst her shock, she still battled to keep the laughter from reaching her lips and so she chose not to speak for fear he might know that she was finding it hard to be upset with him. Nancy could barely bring her eyes up to meet his and she felt the familiar flush instantly.

"Hmm…" He nodded stepping in front of her, sweeping his gaze from her head to her toes and then back up to her eyes where his stare locked and stayed. He took a satisfied breath and nearly whispered. "There you are." And she _was_…and so was _he_, reaching out without hesitation to plant his open palm against the wall beside her head. He noted with satisfaction that she was between him and the wall and she was going _nowhere_. He leaned in close, indulging in her sweet, unknown scent, wise to her game. He let out a small almost unheard laugh, when he saw her almost imperceptible shiver and situated himself dangerously closer to her face, mere millimeters from her skin. "Now we'll talk." He didn't ask, he commanded it…and she couldn't even breathe. "I had good reasons…for lying." His eyes moved from her eyes, to her lips and back up again.

She smiled up at him, biting her lip. "I know you did…I just don't know why you didn't tell me." She reached out and very timidly straightened his tie, out of habit, but the scorching jolt of attraction she felt when her hand grazed his covered chest made it more of a sensual act than a helpful one. "It might have been better for me if you'd just let it happen when it was supposed to happen." She put her hands back down in front of her as her back was still flush against the wall. "Now he's madder than ever, because I skipped out on the match last week."

He cleared his throat and made an attempt to clear his mind of the cobwebs that her touch and her nearness had created. He was half tempted to tell her that the only difference informing her of the match last week would have made, was in whether her beating would be televised or not, but he opted out of scaring the hell out of her with the details of a match that he was sure Eric Bischoff had sugar coated for his own benefit.

"I might be a little scared because I've never done anything even remotely close to this before, but if he gets rough I can handle it." He watched her stiffen her chin defiantly and he wanted to laugh. There was something vaguely Audrey'ish about what she had just said and the look that was carved on her features.

"And what are you gonna do? Choke him with a yard of lace?"

"How bad can it be?" Nancy shook her head with a look of confusion. "It's just an exhibition match…I may not wanna do it but Eric promises I'll be fine."

"And you _trust_ him?" His tone was slightly mocking, as he reached out with the fingers of his free hand to touch the diamond.

"He said that I'm supposed to go into the ring." She motioned with her hand. "And just play along with what Chris does…whatever that means." Her heart was thumping wildly at the sight of his hand so scandalously close to the rapid pulse below her skin. She was finding it unspeakably hard to concentrate on his questions.

"Did he tell you what the stipulations would be?" Dave asked, knowing that no matter what Eric promised her, it would never be as simple as he made it out to be.

"Yeah, he said tomorrow night." She seemed confused.

"Nancy, stipulations are specifics about a match, things like 'no disqualification', pin-falls count anywhere…bra and panties match." He threw the last one in for a joke, but he secretly would have loved to see Nancy involved in that one, simply because he knew with her inexperience, she would have lost. But despite his attempt at humor Dave was beginning to feel very apprehensive about this farce of a match. "He must have mentioned it was inter-gender, right? Did he say anything else?"

Nancy glanced up at him a smidgeon embarrassed by the fact that she was completely unschooled in the finer details of an endeavor in which she was about to be thrust into. "Yeah he, uh…he said no disqualification and..uh, inter-gender…um" She shook her head trying to remember it all. It was hard to make eye contact when all she could stare at were his lips. "He mentioned that the 'no DQ' would be great for this type of thing, since I don't know all of the moves and rules, that way if I do something really wrong I won't be disqualified."

"Oh Lord, you have no clue what your about to do, do you?" Dave suddenly felt anger hum through his veins. He had known that Eric would do that sort of thing because he had done it before with others. He could clearly see that Eric had tried to convince Nancy that it was in her best interests to see things his way, and he'd used a mix of manipulation and deceit to achieve her compliance. "The 'No DQ' stipulation doesn't just benefit _you_, it benefits your opponent as well." He arched an eyebrow. "What Eric didn't tell you, was that your opponent can use _any_ means at his disposal to incapacitate you, be it a chair, a sledge hammer…_whatever_ he thinks will help him win…and he won't be disqualified for it." He saw a flash of fear in her face just before she jutted her chin out regaining her boldness. God, but he wanted to taste the skin below that diamond, his fingers stilled on the pendant and he pulled them away.

"Well then that means I can too, right?" Nancy asked, trying hard to disguise her intimidation at the new found knowledge.

Dave sighed and looked at the wall above her head, in thoughtful contemplation. "Nancy the best thing you can do is probably just get out of the ring, allow yourself to be counted out, and lose the match."

"He did say something about no count-outs." She grimaced when she saw the look of frustration on Dave's face and hearing his near growl of aggravation sent a shiver down her spine.

"And you told him you'd do this?" His voice rose to a concerning note. He knew what Eric was planning, He knew that Eric didn't like Nancy and he had been around long enough to see the fruits of what happened when Eric used the ring to punish people he didn't care for. The former female announcer/interviewer, Terri Runnels was a prime example.

Nancy held her arms out to the sides in desperation, even though they ached to slide between his jacket lapels and touch his chest. "I had no choice, he said that we all needed to know how to be versatile and if I wanted to continue my employ here I had to be willing to try new things…he says I'm not the _only_ one that will have to be diverse."

"Well, you're not doing it." Dave shook his head as he spoke matter-of-factly. "I'll talk to Eric myself. You have no business in the ring."

"He'll fire me Dave." She wanted to beg him not to make things worse for her, but the look on his face made ice run through her blood and she didn't feel like arguing when she knew she would lose.

"I'll be back in 20 minutes, don't leave." He spun on his heels and marched out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He was determined to find Eric and change his mind even if he was forced to pound his head against his desk repeatedly until he either yielded or lost his memory, whichever came first.

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Christy caught a glimpse of the young girl, who so closely resembled her father, as soon she exited the women's locker room. There was no doubting that she was Dave Batista's eldest daughter and a suddenly thoughtful smile curved Christy's red pouting lips. Her chance to get Dave back would be exponentially easier if she could develop a friendship with the girl. Christy knew it would be hard for Dave Batista to say no to a relationship with a woman who had such a strong influence in his daughter's life…and she planned to be _that_ woman. She noticed that the teen was holding the hand of another little girl, no doubt Dave's youngest daughter.

Christy couldn't help noticing the disheveled look of the little girl with her helmet and breastplate and oversized soda with the straw, on which she was noisily slurping. How anyone could let a child go out in public looking like that was beyond her scope of sensibilities. She might not like it but if she was Dave's daughter, then Christy was smart enough to know that she had to accept her in all her imperfections…and Lord there were a lot of them.

She clutched her handbag under her arm and walked down the hallway toward the girls who had decided to take a seat on two chairs near the men's locker room. She deduced they were probably waiting for their father and it might not be a bad idea for her to make her move now so that Dave could come out in the middle of her talk with his girls and see how truly well they were all getting along. Christy was certain that all she to do was talk about make-up or something equally inconsequential to the oldest one and offer some…candy to the younger one. They both appeared to be fairly average in terms of interests, except for that younger one, it appeared that all one would have to do is toss a dress-up ninja costume at her and let her go her own way…how hard could it be?

Christy paused directly in front of the girls and then pasting a very bright, visibly contrived smile on her face, she leaned over. "Well, aren't you just the spitting image of your Daddy?"

Vanessa had heard that same observation a handful of times tonight alone and it was getting old. Yes, she knew she looked like her father, and yes he couldn't have denied her if he'd wanted…she had heard it all before, but prepared to heed her mother's advice about being polite, she emulated the woman's smile and said "Thank you."

"You know…your Daddy and me are special friends." Christy began trying to enforce with the young teen that _she_ too had a place of value in the life of Dave Batista. "He's been hoping we could all meet."

Vanessa, being more intelligent than most girls her age, found that the attempted affirmation was not lost on her and the woman's voicing of it represented a very distinct threat. "My Daddy has lots of friends." Again Vanessa was unerringly polite, even if she remained wary. "I've met most of them, but I don't recall meeting you."

Christy was blown away by the fact that the young lady was so intellectual and articulate. She'd half expected a dimwitted, boy-crazy teen. "Well you know," Christy said placing her hand bag on the seat next to Audrey and then leaning down to take a look at Audrey under the hat. "I might even be getting to know the two of you better." She glanced at Vanessa, who had a look of respectful repose on her young face.

"I don't really remember my Daddy mentioning you, what did you say your name was?" Vanessa motioned for Christy to sit down on the chair closest to her. She did so…only because she had seen the impish look of interest that flickered across Audrey's face when the handbag had been placed on the chair. The teen had been hoping to gather the attentions of the Diva for the sake of depriving her little sister of an opportunity at mayhem unfortunately, Christy sat next to Vanessa without picking her handbag up.

"He didn't tell you about me?" Christy watched the young girl shake her head, and then gave her spiel. "I'm the very first Diva Search Winner."

"Oh, that's right." Vanessa said obligingly, unable to see what Audrey was doing behind Christy's back and very nervous because the purse was also out of her view. "Didn't you, like…pose nude or something too?"

Christy was chagrined by the girl's ability to be condescending and well-mannered at the same time. She had definitely underestimated her. "Well, yes I did pose in Playboy, but sometimes when a career opportunity that good comes along you just have to take it."

Vanessa nodded, "Well my Daddy always tells me that the girls who leave something to the imagination, usually end up better off in the long run…I hope your career choice works out for you." She was suspicious of the woman, and very much against the prospect of her Father striking up a friendship with a woman like her.

"Well, thank you…" Christy wanted to slap the little tart, but then there would be no chance in hell of anything more with Dave than a trespass order if she indulged that particular impulse. "Maybe we can go hang out sometime while you're here with your Daddy, maybe hit the mall or something." Christy had to try, _even_ if the little shit was bitter and hateful under the guise of a well-bred Champion's daughter.

"That sounds nice, but I've already been to the mall…" Vanessa began, prepared to deflect the woman at all costs.

Behind the two, Audrey had been listening with only mild interest, her focus on the open handbag in front of her. She really _had_ wanted to be good like Daddy insisted, and she would have…only this lady was making Vanessa do the face that she did when the boys on the plane said she was hot, so she must be trouble just like those mean ole' boys were. Audrey had plans for this lady and even if she didn't have a sword, she had the other weapons. She thought quickly about the consequences if she was caught, and then just as quickly as they entered her mind, they left, and in their place was the intense desire to test out the weapon she had saved from breakfast.

She had used her teeth to tear the corner of the honey packet open while she had been in the bathroom stall earlier, so that Vanessa couldn't see her, and boy, had it ever been hard to keep the packet from squishing out into her pocket before she could find just the person to use it on. And now, sensing her sister's stress and hearing the lady talk to them both like they were babies was making her _mad_. Audrey lent a watchful eye until she was sure that this lady wasn't looking and then she slipped the sticky weapon out of her pocket and carefully squeezed the entire packet of it into the tiny handbag, watching it swirl into heavenly, amber-colored drippings, down over the lady's keys and onto the tube of lipstick and among all of the other things that lay in the tiny Gucci bag.

Audrey glanced up quickly and was relieved to find that Vanessa, who would kill her if she knew, was still talking to the lady, who hadn't seen what she had done either. With a complacent smirk, she put the empty honey packet back into her pocket, next to the other weapon and her pack of Bubble Yum, gum. She had fixed this lady for sure and now it was time to sit back and be _reall_y good…for awhile, or else Vanessa might know she had been a bad girl and she would make that other face and tell Daddy on her.

"Well, if you change your mind, maybe I could show you some tricks for your hair and nails…all that girlie stuff!" Christy tried in earnest to break past the teen's defenses but realized that it might take more than a day. "Why don't you let your Dad know that I can take you with me tomorrow when I go to the Mall with all the other Divas? You can hang out with us. You'd like that right?"

"I think my _Daddy's_ taking us somewhere, I don't know yet." How many refusals did she have to give before the lady got the hint? All she knew was that if her Daddy didn't have plans she would darn sure fake sick before she'd go anywhere with this lady, except maybe to a basketball court where Vanessa knew she could get the better of her.

"Well…if you change your mind…" Christy let the sentence trail off and turned her attention to the littler of the two pieces of Dave's marital baggage. "And _you_ cutie…you could always go with us too if you want."

Audrey slurped her soda loudly and smiled from behind the straw. "Thank you." She mimicked Vanessa's behavior.

"You are just an adorable _baby_ girl." Christy had no clue how to talk to the child. She just knew that she didn't want to get too close to the little girl, because of the hazard of the sticky hands now clutching the soda cup. "I love the, uh…little hat."

"Helmet." Audrey corrected.

"Oh that's right, and this…uh…" She pointed to the breastplate.

"It protects me from other people's weapons." Audrey explained, her leg swinging, kicking out a furious beat against the metal leg of the chair.

Just what Christy needed, to be the stepmother of a little girl with a huge imagination, and a propensity to be a tomboy.

Audrey was _glad_ she had used the secret weapon, because this lady had said she was a baby and she was _no_ baby! She was a big girl like her Daddy had said and only her Daddy could call her a baby girl, because he knew not to say it in public. "Vanessa, I have to go pee."

"Well it was nice to meet you girls." Christy ground out through her teeth…this was going to be harder than she thought, as she clutched her handbag and walked away. Her only consolation was that Dave didn't have his kids all the time, and maybe after she got him back and moved into his home, she could conveniently take a trip to a spa on his visitation weekends.

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"This is lunacy." He breathed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "She can't do this…she can't take bumps, she doesn't know how to time things properly…she's gonna get hurt and you know it." Dave's voice, though low was markedly strained as he spoke. Pulling his hand out of his pocket and pointing at Eric, he said. "You're working an angle, I swear I can smell it from here…this benefits you in someway, I'd bet my life on it."

"Why would I be working an angle? I just think this would make an excellent, _fresh_ rivalry that people would _really_ grab onto." Eric clutched his hand in the air, smiling as Vince McMahon sat in the chair watching the exchange with interest. "She can always be sent for training later, if things go well, and she'll learn everything she needs to know at that point."

"She doesn't want to wrestle, not tomorrow night, not in the near future, not _ever_." Dave Batista furrowed his brow. "She's a designer, she knows as much about wrestling as _you_ do about sewing…she's scared and I'm telling you she's gonna get hurt…please call off this match." He wasn't in the habit of saying please, but for her he would do it.

"Dave…" Vince piped up. "I hate to sound facetious, but I really think Eric may be on to something, I think that having someone from behind the scenes, someone completely unknown, out there in a rivalry with a well known heel, though not completely inconceivable, would be a way to refresh things around here."

"Refresh?" Dave couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why her? Why not someone else?"

"Because she and Chris have exchanged words and because after the incident with her throwing his keys in the trash, it makes for a good rivalry and forcing them to work together might force them to solve their differences." Eric explained, hashing out the details of the skirmish between the two.

"And he actually _saw_ this happen?" Dave probed. "He _saw_ her throw his keys in the trash?"

"Well, no, but he was told by someone and so was I." Eric shook his head.

"And you're basing this whole _bullshit_ circus on the word of someone else?" Dave laughed derisively "Did you even bother to ask _her_?"

"I didn't have to…I don't have to reveal my sources or my reasons to you or anyone else." Eric was surprisingly brave.

"Fellows I don't have to remind you that we have a show starting in an hour, let's get this lined out so we can hype it tonight and go our own ways, shall we?" Vince huffed. "Or else we can drop the whole damned thing for the sake of time."

Dave glowered and shoved his hands back into his pockets as a way to restrain himself from doing bodily harm to either of the men in front of him. "I prefer the latter."

"Here's the deal in a nutshell." Eric stated. "No disqualification, no count outs, we'll announce that she can win by pin fall or submission…obviously we will want Chris to go over for the sake of building the rivalry…he'll just do a little bit of roughing her up and then we plan to have him put her in the walls of Jericho and she'll tap out…that's all."

"And what if something goes wrong? What if he tears her knee out when he puts her in 'The Walls'? What if she loses her balance when he's yanking her around and falls through the ropes and lands on her head? What then?" Dave said his jaw pulsing. "There are a hundred different unknowns that you can't even factor into something like this. Professionals get hurt, Eric, and even _they_ know what they're doing."

"The match is set, _period_…I'm gonna have Jericho run a promo here in the first half of the show for the match tomorrow night." Eric stated.

"While you're at it, why don't you just sign her up for the next Lumberjack Match? We'll all just strap her a few times and have a good laugh." Dave spouted. "Next thing you know she'll be ready for a Hell in the Cell!"

"Don't tempt me!" Eric spat.

Just as the conversation became even more heated, a producer popped his head into the office reminding Vince McMahon of his responsibilities elsewhere and the group of men began to disperse. The door closed behind Dave and he prepared to revisit Nancy with the bad news, when Stephanie McMahon-Levesque sidestepped a sound cart and placed herself in front of him, asking for a moment of his time.

"I heard about what Eric wants to do and even though I think it's a good idea for business reasons…I know how it feels to be in the ring with someone and be scared." She said, looking up at him with all seriousness. "I want you to kick an idea around, for me." She motioned with her hands.

"What idea?" Dave was still frowning.

"He may have said 'no DQ', no count out, all that other idiocy but if you'll recall, he _never_ mentioned a rule for no ringside interference." She smiled and patted him on the arm. "Just think about it, huh?" With that, she walked away.

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"He mentioned that the rivalry started because you threw Chris's keys in the trash." Dave said as he watched Nancy hem up the leg of Trish's pants.

"What?" Her head popped up along with a look of confusion followed by a laugh. "No…I told you, I ran into him when I wasn't looking, which obviously I am prone to doing and when we collided, all of his stuff fell. I tried to give him his keys back and he was so busy spouting off obscenities that he walked off without them." She lifted the foot and pulled the fabric out from under it snipping the excess thread and laying the pants aside. "I had to get moving, so I gave the keys to Max and he said…" Nancy paused for a split second, her mouth popping open in surprise as reality dawned revealing what must have happened. She gritted her teeth as she pushed the chair back from the table. "Max!" She closed her eyes, a feeling of smoldering anger washing over her. It had been _him_ with the red shirt, and now _him_ with the keys. And each time, _she_ had been the one left holding the bag. "Bloody hell…" She muttered, covering her face with her hands.

"It's gonna be okay." Dave laughed softly just to mask the fury he felt. This entire incident was a result of Max's constant meddling. He stood above her and rubbed his hands up and down the sides of her arms to rid her of the goose bumps that had popped up and then he enfolded her in a hug laying his chin on top of her head. "I was planning on going to the gym tomorrow after breakfast, but I think maybe I should use that time to show you a few things." If there was nothing else he could do at least he might be able to show her a way to keep from getting her neck broken.

She listened to the pleasant rumble of his voice and the steady beat of his heart. "There's no chance of me getting out of this one is there?" She joked, imagining that she could stay right here, this way for along time without discontent.

"Well, we could always run away again." And the idea was more appealing now than ever, he was just afraid that he might not want to come back. He brushed her curls back with his hand, so tempted to kiss her, but nervous that anyone could come in and find them. "I have to go now, but I don't want you to worry…I'll have you ready by tomorrow, and since we know the match is set for you to lose, it won't be hard." He winked and headed toward the door.

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Dave Batista emerged from the men's locker room, fully dressed and ready for his match, now all he was lacking were his little girls. A quick word with the producer Ted Phillips, reassured him that his girls had been taken to ringside, front row and were already seated, next to another female producer, in order that they could watch their father's match.

He looked on the monitor that was used to scan the crowd, and spotted his daughters. Audrey was front and center complete with the helmet and a large pink bubble, growing larger by the second, from her mouth. Vanessa was talking to Audrey, no doubt instructing her on the finer points of how to chew bubblegum properly, he knew they were fine and he could rest easy during his match. Now on his way to the ring he realized that he was halfway wishing the monitor would have scanned the rafters so he could see if _she_ was there again.

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Nancy had hoped that she might be finished with all of the wardrobe requests in time to get a glimpse of Dave Batista's match, but the hopes of that were growing ever slimmer as the pile of 'to do's' was growing larger, and she was worried and incensed with her assistant whom she hadn't seen all night. She snatched up her sewing kit and prepared to head in the direction of the ladies locker room for a quick fix on Victoria before her match with Christy, when like a mind reader, Max finally walked in.

"Oh God…I'm sorry I'm late." Max looked unusually pale and sickly.

Nancy instantly went weak on the issue of yelling at him the moment she realized something was wrong. She tossed her kit down and with concern, she went to his side. "What's wrong with you?" She didn't coddle him, but rather she waited, thinking he might be playing possum. He was known for that sort of thing.

"Two things…" He said weakly, as if he might double over. "Puerto Rican food, and the information that Vicki just spoon fed me."

"Well then that's your whole problem, _Max_." She snapped, knowing that he wasn't nearly in as bad of shape now as he would be when _she_ got through with him. "If it's not your mouth getting _you_ into trouble, it's your mouth getting _me_ into trouble."

"I know…" He looked in pure anguish. "And believe me you're not the only one who thinks that." Max dropped his bag and hung on to his stomach. "Vicki just told me that she heard from her assistant Paulo that _you_ are going to be wrestling tomorrow night…_please_ tell me that was a joke intended to stress me out."

Nancy decided against a full fledged tirade, thinking her energy would be better spent elsewhere. "It's the truth…I am going to wrestle tomorrow night…I don't want to…" She began, her temper rising. "_But_ I don't have a choice…and can you guess why I don't have a choice?"

Max edged away from her, he wasn't all together sure she wouldn't harm him physically. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Someone in the upper echelon of management got the idea that I was somehow responsible for tossing Chris Jericho's keys in the trash." Nancy stated, narrowing her eyes. "You wouldn't happen to know where they might have gotten that idea, would you?"

Without letting him finish, she began again. "So instead of firing me, Eric Bischoff decided that he would give me a chance to redeem myself by my eager participation in a match that stems from a new rivalry created by _my_ having thrown the keys in the trash."

She rounded the table and snatched her sewing kit up again. "But the funniest thing is…I remember having handed those damned keys to you, Max I even asked you that night if you gave them back and you said yes!" She was angry and hurt.

"Correction…" Max said putting a finger in the air. "I said they were in the perfect place, and for him the trash was the perfect place…I _never_ said I gave them back." He knew he shouldn't have said it as soon as the admission came out of his mouth, and he blanched when he saw her shoulders stiffen.

"Damn you Max!" Nancy fumed. "Do you just really hate me? Because thanks to you I have half of the RAW Roster thinking I am a childish prankster."

"I really am sorry, please believe me…but none of this would have happened if you had just stood up for yourself instead of letting that Red haired Barbie walk all over you…" He tried desperately to rationalize his actions. "I only did it because I was sticking up for _you_!"

"Sticking up for me?" She scoffed. "You're gonna get my ass kicked, is what you're gonna do!" Nancy felt sorry for him, when she saw his head duck in apparent remorse. He had only acted with her best interests at heart, but simply put…he had little forethought to the consequences.

"Max…" She said sitting next to him, half tempted to put her arm around his beefy shoulder, but she clasped her hands on her lap. "You…are a _really_ good friend and I love you…God help me, I don't know why, but I really love you, and I believe that you meant well when you did what you did, but you've gotta _stop_ interfering in my affairs…"

"You're having an affair?" He joked

"Shut up." She said firmly, without smiling and continued. "That means, when I am being reamed by someone, you can't go behind my back and visit revenge on them, and you've _gotta_ stop barging in when Dave and I…" She blushed and frowned. "What I mean is that I am a grown woman and I can handle things that come my way even if I do it differently than you would do it. I promise, I wouldn't have survived this long if I weren't tough as nails…I just don't feel the need to prove it to everyone, okay?" She watched him nod. "And another thing…I…_really_ need you _not_ to put my job at risk again. I don't have…a huge ranch in Colorado and a loving set of parents just waiting for me if I fail…" She swallowed back a lump. "I have a post office box on the shit-hole side of town in a city I'd rather not even go back to…and that's _it_. I need the exposure that this job can give my designs, it's really important to me and to my future, so please…think about that when you're tempted to get revenge on _my_ enemies." She reached out and hugged him. His shoulders still slumped as he held onto her. Nancy might have been angry before, but now all she could feel for him was pity, she knew how hard it must have been for him to hear her say how she felt, especially when he had only been doing what he thought would help her.

"Well, I guess I was wrong about you…you seem to be running your own little player's club." The chilling female voice from the door caused Nancy to whip around.

"And here I was thinking you two were just friends and co-workers."

Nancy put her tongue against the roof of her mouth and closed her eyes. "Well I guess the night can get worse than it already is." She muttered.

A laugh and then the distinct plop of clothing could be heard as Christy slapped down a shirt on the table. "I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot."

"Oh really?" Nancy gave Max a warning glare when he appeared ready to bite and she turned around to face the Diva. "I didn't think that common accidents were enough of a reason to hate someone, but I guess in your case, maybe I was wrong about that one."

Christy smiled, un-phased. "You'll forgive me if I stick around while you do the repairs on my shirt…the last time I left it in your _capable_ hands, I found myself in a bit of a bind."

Nancy lifted the shirt up and noticed that the hem was unraveling. "I'll have to trust this one to Max I have a repair to do in the bathroom for Victoria." She kept her tone light, but with an edge of stern composure.

"I guess it would be too much to ask for you to rig her shirt like you did mine." Christy laughed as if it were funny.

"It would be." Nancy responded narrowing her eyes and picking up the sewing kit.

True to form, Christy couldn't let her leave without getting in one last verbal jab. "You know, speaking of Dave…"

"I didn't realize we were speaking of Dave." Nancy could have simply left, but the mention of his name gave her pause, just as Christy knew it would have.

"I just had the most interesting conversation…with his daughter." She reveled in the slight aversion of Nancy's eyes.

"Good, I'm glad you were able to be civil to _someone_." Nancy felt a stab of jealousy, she had no right to feel that way, she knew it, but she did. She remembered how he'd asked her if she would be open to meeting his daughters and yet Christy had already gone and met them. "I really would like to continue this, but I have someone who needs my help."

"Are you sleeping with him?" The verbal dart was the equivalent of a well aimed harpoon, and Nancy was so caught off guard that for a moment all she could do was stare. "Trust me honey it's not that tough of a question." Christy's face was harsh and unyielding.

"What is it you want me to say?" Nancy asked, anger and shock, mixing together to form an old, almost forgotten emotion.

"You know...it's not hard for me to see what _he's_ in it for…men rarely give effort to an innocent when they've experienced something profoundly life altering, like he has with me." She dragged her nail across the table as she took another step closer. "I just…for the life of me am not able to figure out _what_ it is that _you're_ getting out of this."

Nancy swallowed the urge to vomit, and chose to speak guardedly. "If what he had with you was so '_profoundly life altering'_…then why wasn't he in _your_ bed last night?"

The red headed Diva let out a swirl of false laughter, but not before Nancy had seen the furious dilation of her piercing eyes. "What makes you think he wasn't?" Her voice was deadly calm.

This time it was Nancy's turn to laugh, only it was for real, because she had known _quite_ well where he had been last night. Choosing to give her answer without words, she simply smiled reticently, narrowing her eyes and then gave Christy a wink that told it _all_ as she spun around and walked spryly out of the wardrobe room.

Christy was about to open her mouth again, but then she smiled sweetly to cover up her rage and turned to hand the shirt to Max, who was biting his tongue in an effort to keep from doing a verbal 'shock and awe' on the red headed demon.

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"Can you give me 15 or 20 minutes and then we can go eat?" Dave asked, sweat dripping down his face and chest.

Vanessa nodded to her father. "Please no Mexican food this time though." She pleaded and smiled when he raised an eyebrow before agreeing.

"Audrey, no mischief…" He leaned down, sweaty and still breathing heavily, so he could be face to face with his daughter. "Don't leave Vanessa's side." He straightened her helmet, thankful that he'd made her leave the sword behind in the cabana. Others might not believe it, but he was wise enough to know that such an innocent plastic toy to one child…became raw power in the hands of _his_ pint-sized punisher. If left alone for even a minimal amount of time and with any inanimate object, she could do untold damage.

"Watch her while I shower." He kissed Vanessa on the top of her head and disappeared behind the locker room door.

"Okay, Audrey, we need to sit down, my legs are tired…and you can't sit in my lap like out there." Vanessa rubbed her thighs which had just now regained their sense of feeling, after having a bouncing Audrey perched on them through the entire match, save for the few moments when she was jumping up screaming out unspeakable horrors for their father to inflict on his opponent.

"I don't _want_ to sit on your lap…I wanna play '_lava river'_." She referred to the game that they played at home by throwing all of the cushions from the sofa onto the floor and used them as rocks to cross the imaginary lava from the family room to the kitchen.

"You can't play _that_ game, Audrey. We don't have any pillows here." Vanessa rubbed her eyes and yawned.

"There's napkins over there…" Audrey pointed to the concession table. "We can use napkins!" She started to take a step toward the table, when Vanessa, quick as lightning, snatched her by the back of her breastplate and hauled her up onto the chair beside her. "Oh, no you _don't_, the last thing we need is a huge mess out here in the middle of the floor."

"Don't _yank_!" Audrey blurted and shook her torso furiously until Vanessa released her, but obediently she sat on the chair. "You _always_ yank…" She whispered spitefully, feeling more and more like she might want to put the pokey weapon in her sister's shoe.

Vanessa rolled her tired eyes, hoping her father would hurry so that she could get something to eat, Audrey might be able to live off of cotton candy and slurpees, but Vanessa would have given her right arm for a good burger. She watched as the busy, back hallways became less and less a circus, and then the sign that read '_Wardrobe'_ on the door just across from her caught her eye, mainly because a very chubby man had just stepped outside of the door and pulled the sign off. "I'll bring you coffee." She heard him say and when she peeked past him just to be nosy, she caught a glimpse of a woman who looked familiar to her.

Vanessa watched the man pass by with a smile and nod, and then she turned her eye to Audrey who was fiddling with something deep in her pocket. She looked down the hallway and noticed Christy Hemme, making her way out of the women's locker room and Vanessa rolled her eyes…the last thing she wanted to have to do is share dinner with her Daddy and a woman who probably couldn't stop talking long enough to eat a complete meal.

"Hey Audrey…" She whispered, prepared to act fast. "Let's go look around." Vanessa knew this would get Audrey's attention, because sitting still obviously took its toll on her sister's tiny, restless body.

"Okay." She popped up off of the chair, causing it to slide noisily backward and then as her usual routine, she snatched hold of Vanessa's hand with her own sticky fingers and began swinging her arm. "Let's go."

Vanessa marched straight across the hall, thinking that she could come up with a good excuse for being in here if she had to…she just didn't want to have to pay anymore lip service to Christy. She opened the door and stepped inside, with Audrey behind her noticing the woman who was leaned over her work. Vanessa's eye was drawn immediately to the racks of clothing that were near the far wall, the huge volume of machinery and the standing rack of colored thread. It was like a miniature design warehouse. There were even mirrors for dressing and free-standing, hinged screens to hide behind while you tried clothes on.

Vanessa noticed that the woman looked up from the fabric she was pinning. "Hello." The woman smiled and then a sliver of recognition dawned on the faces of both. Vanessa knew her as the woman from the pool last night, but she was sure the woman only knew her because she looked like her father. And she swore if she heard that remark one more time tonight she might puke.

"Hi." Vanessa said softly, still holding Audrey's hand. She looked around awkwardly, the idea of an excuse failing her.

Nancy knew _exactly_ who the little girls were. She recognized them from the pictures Dave had shown her the very first night when they'd eaten at the diner together. "Vanessa and Audrey, am I right?" She finished pinning the last fold and stood up.

"Yeah," Vanessa responded, surprised that she hadn't yet mentioned the likeness between her and her father. "Do you know my dad?" She asked, wondering if this lady were anything like Christy.

"I do." Nancy said, leaning against the table, unsure of how much about her his daughter knew.

Vanessa looked at her closely, trying to determine if she had an ulterior motive. "You work here in the WWE?" Of course she did, Vanessa fumbled. She couldn't just yet think of anything good to ask.

Nancy nodded. "I fix clothes when they get torn up, and I do some design work for the Divas."

"Really?" Vanessa ignored the persistent tug on her arm. She released Audrey's hand, thinking that she couldn't do a whole lot of damage in here. "Have you ever had to fix my Dad's clothes?"

"Once." Nancy nodded, turning back to straighten the table behind her.

Vanessa watched as Audrey promptly seated herself in the chair at the back of the room behind the sewing machine table, and she stepped beside the clothing rack so she could keep an eye trained on her. "How come these clothes don't have tags?" Vanessa freely peeked at a few of the designs hanging on the rack as she watched Nancy load a cart with miscellaneous supplies.

"Well…um, they do." Nancy said smiling. "It's just…let me show you." She lifted the hem of the shirt and showed Vanessa the tiny tag stitched into the side seam. It was a simple iridescent black tag with _Nancy_ printed in silver scroll lettering. "When I started design school, my teacher always talked about spending less on advertising and more on your product quality…I guess that one lesson stuck."

"These are _yours_?" Vanessa was suitably impressed.

"Mmm, Hmm." Nancy nodded. "You're a fan of fashion?"

Vanessa admitted she was and animatedly explained how she had been sketching designs for so long and keeping them all so that she had piles of paper in her room. "I mostly have to just kick them under the bed, but Mom bought me a plastic storage bin that rolls under the bed so I put them in there, she's supportive of my career choice."

"That's good…and I'm sure she finds it easier to vacuum now too." Nancy glanced in the tall cheval mirror catching a glimpse of Audrey, hand out, finger headed toward the needle of the sewing machine that regularly injured Nancy. Without turning her head to face Audrey, she spoke. "I wouldn't do that if I were you…that machine bites, trust me I know." She held up her band-aid covered finger so the little girl could see it and then continued her conversation with Vanessa.

Audrey was shocked and surprised. This lady hadn't even been looking, so maybe it was true what her Mommy said about having eyes in the back of your head. She pulled her hand back slowly, not wanting to have an injury like the lady had. She also found that the pokey weapon was really starting to hurt, and she hadn't had bubble gum in a long time since her Daddy's match so she dug her hand deep into the pocket of her skirt to retrieve them both.

"He was really picky when I tried on swimsuits at the mall, he said I couldn't have either of the ones I tried on, because they showed too much." Vanessa explained her dilemma to Nancy as she fingered the fabric of a shiny grey swimsuit that was a prototype for one of Nancy's designs for the next Viva Las Divas photo shoot. "I would love something like this but I know he would tell me '_no way'_."

"Well it wouldn't have to be exactly like this..we could alter it so that it's tasteful." Nancy offered to help her with the problem. "I'm sure if he knew we would change the footprint of the design, he would agree that it's okay."

"I got a stupid Nemo Swimsuit!" Audrey piped up from the back of the room.

"I'll bet you hate it right?" Nancy said holding in a laugh.

"How did you know?" Audrey was amazed again, not only could the lady see things that were behind her, she had known that Audrey hated the Stupid Nemo suit.

"Just a guess." Nancy said, turning to regard the little girl with a grin.

"I plan on putting duck tape over Nemo before I swim so people can't see him." Audrey announced nodding her head with resolution.

"Dad says you're not allowed anywhere near duct tape, Audrey." Vanessa reminded her with sisterly firmness.

Nancy nearly laughed out loud, when she saw the look of annoyance on Audrey's face. "It's a good thing you wore your body armor." Nancy announced noticing how crooked her helmet was and how loose the straps on the breastplate had become. "Wrestling matches are dangerous places."

Audrey's mouth flew open in surprise. "I told you so!" She roared, pointing at Vanessa accusingly and then turned to Nancy she confessed. "They made me leave my sword behind and I needed it a couple of times tonight already."

"So they did." Nancy said a look of consternation on her face. "You never can do without your sword." She rounded the table and picked up a long roll of white felt batting. The batting had been used almost down to the last two layers, but that was still plenty of padding to keep someone from getting pummeled. Inside was a fairly sturdy cardboard tube to help keep it from collapsing. "I know the night's already almost over, but this should help just in case someone comes at you when you're getting in your car." She slipped a rubber band over each end of the tube to keep the felt from unrolling and handed Audrey the sword.

"Oh, Man…thanks a lot!" Audrey said taking hold of the batting tube and swinging it with lethal force in circles. She made sound effects as she swirled and turned back toward the chair from which she had just come. She leaned her new spare sword against the table, hopping up in the chair while the nice lady talked with her sister. The pokey thing was hurting again and she had swallowed her gum, so back into the pocket she dug for both items. Audrey liked this lady, mostly because the lady knew how much she had needed a sword, and so because she found she liked this lady, she decided she wouldn't use her last weapon on her. She laid the pokey weapon on the chair, next to leg, and then pulled out the pack of gum, snatching another piece and popping it eagerly into her mouth. 'Only four left.' She thought, reminding herself to ask Daddy for more tomorrow.

"As for the swimsuit…" Nancy continued, "If you want, I can take your measurements before you leave and whip one up in a couple of hours."

"Really?" Vanessa decided that she liked the shiny grey swimsuit better than any of the ones she'd tried on in the mall. She pulled it off of the hanger and held it up in the air. "Yep..." She nodded. "This is the one for me."

"Oh, _NO._ …uh…uh." From behind them rumbled the deep and disapproving voice of her father. "_No way_."

"Daddy…" Vanessa groaned. "It's just a swimsuit." She frowned, determined that her father would never let her have one that she liked. She'd surely be swimming in shorts and a black t-shirt until she was forty!

"I _know_ it's a swimsuit…" He said smiling through tightened lips. "But it's not _your_ swimsuit…nor will it _ever_ be." He then smiled at his youngest daughter, who came flying across the room with her new sword and a garbled run-on sentence spewing out of her mouth. Audrey flung herself against her father's leg with enough force to nearly put him off balance.

"I told you people that rasselin' matches are dangerous places!" She hollered backing away from his leg for a moment. "See? Even she knows that!" Audrey pointed to Nancy, who was now caught under the watchful perusal of Vanessa, who held on to a glimmer of hope in possessing the swimsuit.

Dave didn't bother informing his daughter of how absolutely true her statement had just been. "You have a sword." He noted, reaching out to inspect the batting covered tubing. "Nice workmanship." He grinned at Nancy and then turned to Vanessa.

"Daddy, you said you'd get us suits, and you got one for Audrey in the gift shop, but you hate every single one that I like." Vanessa began, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Which I don't love Nemo anyways and you can have mine!" Audrey shouted, satisfied with her solution.

"_That_ is _no_ kind of swimsuit for a young lady…I'm not even going to consider that one." He said taking a deep breath…He wouldn't admit that he might have considered it for Nancy.

"I don't want to intrude, but if I, uh…" Nancy began, nearly blanching when his firm stare locked on her. "If I were to make a different one in this same material, but, uh…" She gestured toward Vanessa's upper body. "If I make it cover way more than this one does…I mean borderline one piece, would you consider it?" She knew she was treading in dangerous waters, and she knew that the swimsuit in question was risqué, but she was also well aware of her own talents for redesigning clothing and she knew she could help the two reach a compromise.

Vanessa held her breath, partly because she was wondering how this lady could be brave enough to ask her Daddy to change his mind on something that he was firmly set against, and partly because she loved the material so badly she would have worn it even if it were made into a sweat-suit.

He crossed his arms over his chest and breathed in staring at Nancy for a long moment, and then casting a sideways glance at Audrey who was swinging her sword and then at Vanessa who was holding onto the skimpy swimsuit for dear life. "If it's tasteful…" He let out a breath. "Then, yes…she can have it."

Vanessa broke out into an excited squeal and a series of small hops. "Thank God, I finally have a swimsuit!"

Nancy looked down, unable to meet his eyes. She knew she had butted in where she didn't belong. When she finally got the courage to meet his stare, she saw that his lips were curling slowly into a knowing smile.

"That's very nice of you to do that for her." No one could have guessed the turmoil that he felt at having heard the interaction between his daughters and Nancy from out in the hall. He had wanted them to like her and for some reason he had expected her to use some form of coercion on them, but she hadn't, he'd never even told her about what Audrey had said when he'd denied her the accompaniment of the plastic sword, but somehow she'd had the same childlike opinion about needing it. She hadn't treated Vanessa like a child or used the old 'you look like your Daddy' line, she'd just answered his daughter's questions and then offered a solution for a problem that Vanessa had imagined was insurmountable. He appreciated her for that. "Thank you." His voice was slow and even, his eyes never wavering as he looked at her.

"Well, don't think it's not gonna cost you." Nancy said, her voice emerging with a tremor of relief and then she took Vanessa behind a dressing screen to take her measurements.

He didn't stop to tell her that at that very vulnerable and confusing second, he would have given her anything she wanted. He listened to the ceaseless chatter of Audrey who told of how happy she was to have two swords because she could fight with Vanessa now. "And you too, Daddy, only you have to be on your knees like Mom does."

"Thanks for asking my Dad." Vanessa whispered from behind the screen as Nancy pulled the measuring tape taught around her hips.

"Well, it won't be Sports Illustrated, but you have an absolutely perfect figure…you don't need skimpy things to show it off." Nancy smiled. "But you _are_ welcome." She finished up her measuring, memorizing the numbers as she rolled the tape back up. "Okay so that's that…and you'll have a new swimsuit by lunch tomorrow."

Vanessa smiled and bounced on her feet again. Her nose crinkled up when she smiled and her deep ebony eyes sparkled with the delight of a teen wish granted. "Thank you so much…he never would have said 'yes' if you hadn't talked him into it." She reached out and wrapped her arms around Nancy in a surprisingly swift hug.

Nancy was so shocked by the gesture, that she dropped the tape measurer. "You're more than welcome." She patted the girl's back and then before she was released, she heard Vanessa whisper. "I'm really glad you didn't get hurt last night at the pool."

Nancy pulled away and with a slight frown, she said. "You saw that?"

Vanessa nodded crooking her lip and looking down at her shoes. She took a deep breath and looked back up, "My Daddy is a good man." She smiled and thanked Nancy again, slipping out from behind the screen, to plant a kiss on her father's cheek and give her thanks again to him.

Nancy cleared her throat and then came out from behind the screen to wish them good night. "So, I'll see you guys tomorrow night here again?"

Both girls nodded, but Vanessa piped up. "Maybe I could help you with some of your work when I'm not watching my Daddy's match?" She looked hopeful.

"I could use better help." Nancy nodded and then turned to Audrey. "Do you think you could guard the door for us while we work?" She spoke as if Audrey were a grown soldier, no baby talk, which was something that she knew the girl would appreciate.

"I could keep you guys safer than ever with this sword and nobody would never get you even that red hair lady that called me a baby!" Audrey gave a dangerous swipe with the sword.

Nancy knew instantly who she had been speaking of and so did Dave she realized from her sidelong glance. "Well in that case…if you want the job then it's yours…it'll be a big weight off of my shoulders not having to watch my back all night."

Dave listened as Nancy spoke to Audrey as if hiring miniature mercenaries were an everyday occurrence, there was no condescending ring in her voice, only the reassurance that she was really looking forward to the safety that Audrey could provide with her felt batting sword. Her gestures toward his children hit him squarely in a place that he had been ferociously guarding since his divorce. He felt like someone had taken the wind from him.

Audrey reached forth and grasped Nancy's hand in her sticky one and announced that they should 'shake on it'. "I agree." Nancy said shaking her hand and nodding eye to eye, submitting to the terms Audrey was now spouting forth…rules about not going to the bathroom without an escort and not drinking soda's unless she tasted them first, and not answering the door. "That's my job, and there's all kinds of danger that you might not know about so you just let me do my job, okay."

"I will, I promise." Nancy gave her hand one final fearless shake and then let her cling again to her father's leg. She looked up to see a strange expression on Dave's face. She wanted to go with him, but she knew she had things still left to do.

"I didn't even get a chance to introduce you." He said, his voice strangely low, his eyes never wavering, never leaving her face.

"Well they wandered in and the rest is history." Nancy played nervously with the hem of her shirt.

"I will meet you in front of your cabana at 10 a.m. and we'll go find a place to show you some things for your match." His eyes held hers captive and she was disturbed by the intense scrutiny he had her under. It wasn't threatening in the least just a continuous stare that had her wondering if she had something on her face.

"Don't go out by yourself, huh?" He smiled, breaking the stare.

"Okay." She answered, and then turned to Audrey and gave her a salute, nearly laughing again when the little girl saluted her back, causing her helmet to topple off of her head. "Bye Vanessa." She watched the teen smile and wave and silently mouth the words _"Thank You"_ and then the trio left the wardrobe room, leaving Nancy to wonder what in the world had just happened.

"So sorry it took _forever_." Max apologized as he hitched the door closed behind him with his foot. "I have never seen such a throng of brainless, bikini-wearin' women in all my life! They just hovered in front of that free drink table, like they were waiting for someone to pay!" He set the coffee down and then noticed Nancy's flushed expression and smile. "Oh, shit…I missed it again, huh?"

"You'll never believe who I just met." Nancy said shaking her head.

"Dave Batista's kids." Max said nodding his head.

"How did you know that?"

"I saw them sitting on the chairs in the hall when I left." Max shrugged. "That oldest one, she's the spitting image of her Dad. No mistaking that one."

Nancy nodded "The funniest thing happened though." She stood up and began to pack away a few more of the supplies. "She hugged me…and I got a sticky handshake, now that I'm someone's new boss…and I made a sword…and I butted in where I didn't belong and I didn't even get creamed for it." She smiled. "I had a better time in the last twenty minutes than I have in this job the whole time I've been here."

"Did you inhale spray adhesive while I was gone, because you are making no sense whatsoever." Max tilted his head and stared at her as if she had just unhinged her jaws for fun.

"Never mind…you had to have been here." She looked at the sticky residue on her hand and grinned. She was about to explain it better to Max when he sat down in the chair behind the sewing table to sip his coffee and let out a blood curdling yelp, succeeded by a howl and a flurry of curses. Coffee flew in slurries from the lip of the cup bathing everything in reach.

"What's wrong?" Nancy hollered above the din of his panic, and as he danced around in pain, she glimpsed something very shiny and somewhat tangled looking, impaled in Max's backside. "Okay be still so I can help you!" Had he been wearing denim, it might not have stuck into his skin, but his linen slacks afforded him little or no protection from the strange metal object. When she finally was able to get him to slow down, she reached out and plucked the gnarled metal burr from his rump.

Rolling it over in her fingers, she looked at it with curiosity. 'Hmmm." She mused over it a moment longer while Max rubbed his sore rump and threatened countless tortures that he would inflict on the one who had done the terrible deed. It didn't dawn on her who might have done it until she saw the half empty pack of Bubble Yum on the floor by the chair. Audrey must have laid them both there and Max had pushed the package of gum off into the floor with his oversized butt when he'd sat down, but looking at the metal burr, she could see why it hadn't fallen off of the chair but rather caught hold of the leather and gouged Max's flesh. She was impressed that Audrey had been able to make such an intimidating weapon, even though she surmised it had been left on accident rather than planted. She sat back in the chair after giving it a quick look and leaned her head back, holding the burr and laughing until her sides hurt. She sighed as her laughter died down, and then she looked at Max's confused and peeved expression. "Praise God for irony." She said. "We just talked earlier about how things can come back and bite you in the ass…or stab you…in the ass." She burst into another fit of laughter.

"I'm glad you think it's so funny." Max snapped, rubbing his sore cheek. "Let's see if your laughing when I charge my tetanus shot to your Master Card!"

"I'm sorry…it's just Audrey…" She laughed again thinking about the little girl and her warrior spirit.

"Dave's kid?" Max watched as Nancy nodded, still laughing. "Maybe you should tell him what she did, that shit's dangerous!"

"No, she didn't do it on purpose." Nancy shrugged, a smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Besides…I rather think you deserved that one."

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"Daddyyy." Audrey whined, as the rental car pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. "We have to go back to the rasselin' match." Her eyes were pleading and filled with worry. She had been intent on chewing one last piece of gum before dinner, when she realized with horror that she had left her gum _and_ her new weapon on the chair where that nice lady would sit. She hadn't meant to….it was just that the weapon was pokey and she had only taken it out for a second, she had never wanted to leave it there where the nice lady might get her butt poked.

"Audrey, we're going back tomorrow night." Dave glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

"No Daddy, we have to go back now." She whined. "I forgot my gum." Her words came out in the most pitiable voice as her chin started to quiver.

"Baby, I'll get you more gum, I promise." Dave felt sorry for her. "But we can't drive all the way back to the arena right now, they've locked the doors."

She looked as if she might cry. "Okay Daddy." It might be too late already, the nice lady would have a sore butt, she probably screamed too and now Audrey just _knew_ that her job protecting her sister and the nice lady would be over before it even got started. The nice lady would hire someone else…someone who didn't leave weapons behind to get sat on. Audrey wanted to sit on her Daddy's lap and get a hug and tell him the truth, but she knew that if she told him about the pokey weapon, she might end up with a sore butt too.

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Hours later, after reassuring himself that Nancy was nowhere near the pool alone, Dave Batista walked away from his window and prepared to kiss his little girls goodnight. Vanessa was still glued to the television, viewing Three's Company reruns and so he gave her a set time to shut it down and kissed her head, ruffling her perfectly straight, shiny black hair. "Daddy, thanks again for the swimsuit." She smiled up at him.

"You're welcome, again." He smiled back at her and headed for the girls room where he was dismayed to find no war whoops. Audrey had not been behaving normally since she had left the arena, and it concerned him. She seemed more worried about leaving behind a pack of gum than most people would have been about leaving a wallet. It wasn't like her.

He walked in to find her already between the sheets, with her helmet on the pillow beside her, eyes wide open and a stuffed Power Ranger doll in her arms.

"You didn't tell me you were going to sleep already…I would have tucked you in." He frowned when he noticed the tear sliding down the side of her face from the corner of her left eye. "What's wrong, Audrey?" He said quietly, leaning down to rub her hair.

"Daddy…" Her chin quivered and he felt his heart plummet. "Is it mischief when you didn't mean to do something bad, but something bad happens anyways?"

He chewed his lip and prepared for her imminent admission of guilt. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the empty packet of honey I found in your pocket, would it?" He remembered wondering why the packet had been empty and where the honey might have gone when he'd tossed the girl's clothes in the washer an hour ago.

"No Sir. "She shook her head, she _meant_ to do that, but she'd never tell her Daddy about that one, because he hadn't actually asked if she'd poured honey _in_ something…she was safe on that one.

"Did you do something else?" He asked rubbing his thumb down her cheek to swipe at the tear.

"No Daddy." It was sort of true, she told herself, because she didn't mean to do anything.

"Well then in that case, it would be an accident and accidents aren't really mischief." He rubbed his chin trying to find the right words to ease her tiny conflicted heart. "But sometimes even accidents need an apology, even if you didn't mean to do something, you might be prepared to say you're sorry." He wondered what she was talking about but he knew her well enough to know that she would tell him sooner or later because as big a prankster as she was, she was a good kid and she wouldn't be able to hold it in for long.

Audrey nodded, still saddened over the prospect of giving up the job protecting her sister and the nice lady who now had a sore butt. "Okay Daddy." Her voice was still heartbreaking.

He bent over, kissed his baby girl on the cheek and snapped out her lamp. He stood up rolled his massive shoulders and headed to his room to plan some mischief of his own.


	19. Chapter 18

Uncommon Sense Chapter 18  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."

**Mahatma Gandhi**, _(attributed)_  
_Indian ascetic & nationalist leader (1869 - 1948)_

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"It's about time you got back to me on this!" Christy hissed through the receiver of her cell phone which had just been wiped clean of the sticky golden traces of honey.

"I've been working on it…I'm sure you know that these things take time." Paul Levesque better known as Triple H smiled as he responded in kind to the hard edge in her tone. "What's got you so irritated tonight?"

"I've spent the last 2 hours removing _honey_ from every single thing in my handbag and to top it off, the purse is ruined! Forget about a warranty replacement on it either, because there's _no_ way in hell they're gonna attribute this to normal wear and tear!" Christy spat, taking a glance at the thin mirrored silver Tiffany compact which was now soaking in a glass of hot water, traces of the dreaded honey floating to the top of the water's surface. "Everything in here is either ruined or hellishly close to being ruined! I know it was that little ragged, dirty, sticky, crud-covered brat!" She began to wipe around the inner edge of the lipstick lid to remove more of the golden goop.

"Batista's kid, huh?" Triple H smirked.

"After I finally get him back and start calling the shots, I've got two words for the little monster…" She furiously proclaimed. "Boarding…School!" Christy practically growled into the phone. "Here's another two…Summer…Camp! I can even give you two more! Ass…beating!"

Triple H resisted the urge to laugh, he was only too well aware of the pranks that Dave's youngest daughter was capable of playing on other people…he and Randy Orton had endured the torture of a couple of her shenanigans when they had traveled with Dave as Evolution…but that was before things had gone south with the faction and the Creative Department. "Well maybe the information that I was able to dig up on our little Wardrobe Manager will help heal your battered pride." He waited, wanting her to beg for it.

"Please tell me she's a serial killer masquerading as a seamstress." Christy wiped furiously at the gelatinous residue in the bottom of her prized handbag. "For the love of God, say it was worth the wait and that she has a criminal record of some kind, I know Dave takes that sort of thing very seriously."

"Didn't I tell you _everyone_ has a past?" Triple H laughed cynically.

"Well, what is it?" She blurted in annoyance, slapping the ruined bag down on the mattress beside her.

"Easy…" He said in a soothing voice. "There's plenty of time for all of that, but not tonight."

"You mean I snuck into that little 'goody-two-shoes' room and risked getting caught! I even had to creep out while that tubby bastard was pissing!" She shivered in disgust. "And to think, he had his…_thing_…out while I was just ten feet away, yyyuck!" Christy stood up, placing her hand on her hip and yelled into the phone. "I went through all of that and you're not even going to tell me what you found?"

Triple H laughed again, a mocking rasp, as he stood outside of his house pretending to be walking the dog. "Patience was never one of your strong suits." He flicked the glossy leaf of a random plant and switched the phone from one ear to another. "I will, in due time, let you know everything you need to know…but I have a sneaking suspicion that if I let you in on everything…you'll bypass our original course of action and go straight to Batista." His voice was like a scorching arrow.

"What?" Christy paced. "No, I wouldn't do that."

"I'm right and you know it…I can already count on one hand the amount of times you've extended yourself since we decided you would back off!" Triple H's voice was menacingly low. "I can predict exactly what you're gonna do in any given situation, Christy because you're so transparent it's tiresome."

"I did _not_ agree to help you so that you could insult me!" Christy said jabbing her finger in the air as if he were standing there. "All I have to do is go straight to Dave and tell him what you're planning and you'll be finished…and if I do that, I'll have his trust back." She reasoned pacing around the bed to the window to look up to the cabana on the hill where she knew Dave was sleeping soundly. "I might not even need you after all."

His laugh rumbled through the phone like liquid malevolence. She bristled when she heard it and genuine fear began to take root.

"You, see…" He laughed again, lightly, arrogantly. "The thing I find so entertaining, is that you actually believe that what you said is the truth." He watched the tiny Pomeranian digging furiously under his wife's roses, and was inclined to kick it. "It's funny that you really think he's going to give any credence _whatsoever_ to _anything_ you have to say." His voice lifted at the end of his sentence indicating that he was surprised at her philosophy. "How long, until you figure out that _my_ way, is the _only_ way that will ever ensure you a future with that man?"

"Well maybe we'll just test that little theory of yours." She was tempted to hang up, but his deep and resounding laughter, bordering on hysterics, forced her to remain on the line. "What the fuck is so funny?"

"Ohhh…" He let out the word on a sigh and a laugh. "_You're_ too funny…but seriously, I want you to listen to something for me…." He laughed again. "Just hold on a minute."

Soon the distorted sound of a tape-recorded voice, crackled through the receiver, and Christy was horrified to realize that the clear and angry voice belonged to her. She could soon, clearly make out the words of the conversation she had with Triple H the day the two had spoken outside of the hotel in San Antonio. She chewed furiously on a nail, disfiguring it beyond recognition, as she was forced to recall the incriminating words that implicated her in a plot to destroy Dave Batista's career. Strangely, she took note that Triple H's voice had not even once been identifiable on the tape. "You Sonuva Bitch." Her voice had lost its devious lilt and now floated out on an icy, petrified whisper.

"Ah…so you did hear that right?" He asked nonchalantly. "Now maybe you can understand how very detrimental it would be to any future career choice you have as well as any future relationship you might hope to have with Dave Batista, if this tape were to, say…mysteriously be placed in Vince McMahon's possession?" He let the words sink in. "I don't think I have to tell you that he and I have regular contact with one another…and so you can imagine how easy it would be for him to get his hands on it, can't you?"

She held the phone in her hands, and mutilated another precious fingernail with her teeth.

"Now…it looks like we're bound by a 'blood covenant' of sorts, don't you think?" He asked in a more cheerful manner. "You can help me get what _I_ want and I can help you get what _you_ want, and we both have no choice but to persevere, wouldn't you agree." He waited for her verbal acknowledgement before he continued. " And now that we've cleared up this little misunderstanding, we can move forward…I found a plethora of pertinent specifics on Nancy and to say she has a troubled past is putting it lightly." He paced back and forth, tossing a small pebble at the Pomeranian and smiling when it yelped and danced out of the way.

"I was able to acquire medical records, past addresses, school transcripts, credit reports…_even_ a criminal background." He leaned against the stone railing surrounding the marble fountain outside of the French doors that led into his kitchen. "And now that you understand I'm doing _my_ part, then you'll do your part…and _stay away from him_." His words ended on a lethal note and he slowly removed the phone from his ear, snapping it shut.

Christy's anger didn't last long as she began to ponder what he could have possibly found in Nancy's past, but without any details whatsoever, all she could be left with was her curiosity and the task of removing the jellylike mess from her keychain.

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"Thank you." Nancy smiled and accepted her change from the gift store clerk and then tucked the magazine under her arm, took the bottled water and two gift bags in hand and slid a cumbersome cardboard tube under the other arm. Shuffling her load, she stepped outside of the well stocked gift shop and made her way over to a table near the front desk, where she readjusted her slipping cargo.

Sliding her hand inside the tube, she pulled out the two original screens for John Cena's tribute shirt. They, along with the finished shirt had been over-nighted by the screen printing company that Nancy had commissioned to complete her design. Nancy nodded with satisfaction when she realized that the screens were carefully wrapped in the acid-free, lignin paper and cautiously rolled as they should be…they were a copyrighted original and now belonged solely to John Cena. She let out a contented sigh and a pleased smile when she pulled the shirt from it's wrapping to survey the results…it was even better than it had been on paper and she secretly hoped it did something to help heal his heart.

Nancy folded and rewrapped the shirt in the tissue paper placing it carefully in the gift bag and then taking one last look at the swimsuit she had fashioned for Vanessa, she rewrapped it in tissue paper also and slipped it into the second gift bag. She then lifted the array of items, determined to deliver them to John Cena and then find a buffet before she whittled away to nothing. One cup of morning coffee certainly had not been able to sustain her. Nancy didn't have to look far, as soon as she turned to leave she spotted John, walking alone, in through the doors of the main lobby. He saw her right away, acknowledged her with a nod, and then smiling he proceeded toward her.

"Last minute shopping?" John asked, noting the jumble of items balanced precariously in, on and under her arms.

"Well I _am_ having my first match tonight, so it could be the last time you ever see me." She joked, juggling the items.

"Naw, you'll be fine." John laughed briefly and reached out offering to help her with the load.

"These two are actually yours." She motioned to the tube and the larger gift bag. "There are two screens in there, for your own use…it's your own personal copyright and no one can ever use it without your permission." She could tell by the look on his face that he was touched beyond normal appreciation. "Just put them in a safe place when you get a chance."

He nodded and then offering to pay he asked, "How much…uh…how much do I owe you?"

"Let's worry about that sometime later when we're all not so busy." Nancy responded not at all sure that she even wanted to set a price on something of this nature. His appreciation was more than enough because it reminded her of how many times recently she had been helped without a price tag attached.

He nodded again and then hugged her, careful not to crush the package and then excused himself.

Nancy tucked her magazine back under her arm, thankful that her load had been lightened and she ventured toward the door. She was again stopped by the breathtaking sight of Dave Batista, arm in arm with both of his daughters, walking through the lobby doors. He cut a striking figure, even at 7 a.m., when most other wrestlers were still abed nursing a hangover. His eyes were covered by the trademark, lightly tinted sunglasses he always wore, but she could still detect a faint ripple of pleasure when their eyes locked and held.

The trio stopped in front of Nancy and she could scarcely even breath, still trapped by the invisible cord that his gaze had created. Vanessa was the first to speak, with a gleeful "Hello!" and then a wide-eyed "Hey!" as soon as she caught a glimpse of the magazine under Nancy's arm.

"You got _Devote_?" Vanessa asked excitedly pointing to the folded publication.

"Yeah I did…you know I'm surprised they would even sell it here in a gift shop, normally you have to go to a newsstand to get it." Nancy referred to the quarterly publication of the little known fashion design magazine that detailed the latest styles around the globe. "I try to get one whenever I can…it sort of gives me an edge, I think."

Vanessa unhitched her arm from her father's and pointed to the magazine. "Could I?" Nancy could tell the teen was nearly foaming at the mouth in her desire to take a peek at the magazine.

"Oh...sure." Nancy said allowing the teen to flip through the pages of the magazine, secretly impressed that someone Vanessa's age had even known what it was. "Oh, and before I forget…this is your swimsuit." She handed away yet another facet of the load she had been carrying and reveled in the excited squeal that came from Vanessa.

Dave watched the interaction between the two with interest, as Audrey hugged his leg, her helmeted head looking down at the floor. "Daddy I'm hungry." He could barely hear her say it, but he leaned down and reminded her that they were headed in the direction of the restaurant. There was something inordinately comforting in the knowledge that his oldest daughter approved of Nancy. That feeling soothed the slight stab of jealously he'd felt when he'd strolled in with his daughters, and seen John Cena hugging her. He knew it was only because she had done something nice for him in the way of a design, yet still it had provoked some barely bridled wrath inside of him and a caustic insult from his inner animal.

Yet seeing her here chatting with his daughter about a dress on page 10 that he would never in a million years allow Vanessa to have, seeing her laugh and push the shiny cinnamon curls over her shoulders, wearing the most attractive pair of beat up blue jeans…made him wish that he could freeze the moment and play it back over and over again.

"I do have something for _you_." Nancy turned her attention to Audrey, smiling. "You actually left _me_ a huge surprise last night and I wanted to return it." She lifted her purse up and began to dig for something.

Audrey, who had been trying to avoid looking at Nancy, was now very timidly lifting her eyes to see what she knew would for sure be the pokey weapon. Her chin began to quiver, she could feel the tears stinging the corners of her eyes and she just knew that this lady was going to tattle. It wouldn't do any good to try to tell the lady that she hadn't meant for her to get her butt poked, because as soon as she pulled out that weapon to show Daddy, then Audrey would make that upset face and tell her that what she did was just horrible and Daddy would ground her forever while she was here and then he would tell Mommy and there would be _big_ trouble.

She held onto her father's leg, none to eager for this lady to find what she was digging for. Wasn't it enough that she was going to have to sit the whole night while this lady let Vanessa work? Wasn't it enough that she wouldn't get the 'Protector' job she had been promised? Audrey suddenly wished her Daddy hadn't made her leave her sword at the cabana, because if she had it now, she could hold the lady hostage and then she couldn't be a big fat tattler!

"I know it's in here somewhere." Nancy said her eyebrows pleating as she rummaged through the purse. "Aha! I knew I brought it." She reached down to where Audrey was staring pitifully at the floor and handed her the half eaten pack of gum, which she had found on the floor by the chair after Max's accident. "I stole a piece last night when I found it…it's just very hard for me to resist watermelon. I hope that's okay."

Audrey's head popped up and a look of confusion mixed with sheer relief washed over her face. This lady hadn't told Daddy on her! If she had found the gum, then she had found the pokey weapon. She could have tattled if she'd wanted…but she didn't. The lady didn't even act like she was mad. "It's okay." The words slipped past Audrey's lips so softly that they could barely be heard.

"I'm glad…I was sort of worried since I didn't have your permission." Nancy didn't have to wonder why the tiny girl looked so relieved and troubled at the same time. She would just about bet that Audrey hadn't left the metal burr on purpose, mostly because of the remorse that was apparent in her behavior. She knew that if Audrey had meant to plant the burr, then she wouldn't have expressed contrition and now she just had to find a way to reassure her that it was okay. "You'll probably need some more for tonight while you're at work…" She held her hand to the side of her mouth as if she were telling a secret. "But Max likes watermelon too…so be careful or else he'll get into it when your not looking."

Audrey's face split into a grin, her heart filling with joy because the lady hadn't tattled and she hadn't taken away the job. She put the bubble gum in her pocket and grasped her Daddy's hand, leaning in against his leg. "Thank you." She said softly.

The instant change in his daughter's disposition had not been missed by Dave, and he suspected it had more than just something to do with bubble gum. The fact that she had been on the verge of tears since last night after leaving the arena, and then more of the same since waking, had made him flustered beyond belief, but the few words spoken to her by Nancy and the return of the gum had elicited a smile that he was sure he would not have been able to get on his own.

"I _love_ this one…" Vanessa pointed to a pair of slacks, with a suit-style top, fitted in the torso and complete with a plunging V neckline. "But I know I'll never get to have it, not as long as…" Dave reached over and glanced at the page, taking it between his thumb and forefinger.

"No way." He said shaking his head, as Vanessa gently tugged the magazine away from him.

"I was talking about the pants, Daddy." She said scowling. Vanessa turned to resume her discussion with Nancy when she spotted Christy Hemme, entering the lobby in a whirlwind of fury, making a beeline for the foursome, a small Gucci bag in hand. The look of budding panic on Audrey's face told Vanessa all she needed to know and the sudden comprehension that her sister had yet again committed a heinous act and was about to be called out by Christy for it, bolted her into action. She'd be darned if she'd let Christy embarrass Audrey in front of everyone and doubly darned if she would share her Daddy with someone who treated them like they were baggage. "So you didn't have breakfast yet, right Nancy?" Her words were speedy bordering on frantic.

"Well no, I was just gonna get a buf…" Her words were cut off by the sudden jerk of her arm by Vanessa causing her body to slam into the teenager's side. "Good then you can eat with us."

Nancy was surprised at the girl's strength, but before she could politely decline, Vanessa spouted. "Daddy doesn't mind, right Daddy? You don't mind." The teen laced her fingers through her father's huge hand and began to lead him away.

"I think that's a good idea." Dave said, a confused frown marring his brow. He'd seen Christy coming and had secretly prayed for a distraction of some kind, but never had he expected his 5'6" teenaged daughter to forcibly invite Nancy to breakfast, by nearly yanking her much shorter 5'3" frame off of her feet. Having Nancy join them was something he had been ready to suggest, but his daughter had beaten him to it, and he was pleased with the prospect of them all being together as a group, sans Christy, who had thankfully veered off and retreated.

Watching Nancy from behind, he admired the inherent feminine sway of her hips, as she walked in the forcible captivity of his oldest daughter, who had linked arms with her, casting a lingering glance over her shoulder into the lobby. Keeping his mind off of Nancy's unintentional charms was made all the more difficult by the way she was dressed, a mix of casual and country, the tattered blue jeans paired with the soft white lace of an old cotton sundress which had been shortened to serve as a shirt. It was cinched loosely in the middle with a chocolate brown satin ribbon, reminding him of the curves that his hands had memorized the night before last. The same satin ribbons served as straps, their deep color only making the olive skin of her shoulders more appealing. _'As if she isn't appealing enough already.'_ He thought ruefully. _'Don't forget, you still have the gym time with her that you promised… you can always indulge when you're there.'_ The animal taunted, hinting at darker desires. Dave was in the presence of his daughters and he reminded himself that he had to behave…but he didn't want to…and the beast in the cage was cursing up a violent storm.

The foursome found a table near the window and Dave began politely pulling out the chairs so that his group of ladies could be seated. He noticed that while Vanessa had already eagerly latched onto Nancy, Audrey was gradually sidling up to her…she had abandoned the idea of sitting between her father and Vanessa, opting to sit between Nancy and himself instead. He found that act interesting and watched with amusement as she began to lean over toward Nancy, hoping with enthusiasm to be allowed into the conversation about fashion.

Nancy asked her opinion several times, seemingly impressed when Audrey spouted off something about making 'this dress' or 'that suit', with _Dora the Explorer_ somewhere on it. Their breakfast was passing all too quickly with Dave feeling less and less a part of the group and yet still content to sit back and watch Nancy be monopolized by his daughters. Audrey had put in her two cents, recommending that Nancy design weapon pouches for some of the clothing, explaining that it was important to be armed at all times. Vanessa had promptly disagreed and rolled her eyes, but Nancy suggested that perhaps she _should_ make a type of sheath built into the side of the pants to house a sword…this caught Audrey's attention and to Dave's amusement brought forth a huge smile and another long run-on sentence of suggestions from his little girl.

In the midst of their breakfast, Dave was approached by a group of teenaged boys, seeking autographs and offering their congratulations for his performance and Audrey used this as her opportunity to talk to Nancy in secret. Reaching up she tugged on the side of Nancy's shirt and then when Nancy leaned down, she whispered in her ear. "Thanks for not being a big tattler." She spoke softly, timidly. "I didn't mean for you to get your butt poked." Her voice took on a pre-cry whisper.

Nancy turned and looked at her eyes, picking up immediately on the hopeful and yet remorseful gaze. "I didn't get my butt poked." She whispered. "I know you didn't mean to leave it there." No one could hear them, and she knew that she had only one chance to save the little girls feelings. "It's okay…and I didn't tattle because I _know_ you didn't do it on purpose."

"You didn't get your butt poked?" Audrey whispered back, shocked and relieved.

"No." Nancy whispered in response. "But Max did." She watched as the conflicted look returned to Audrey's face.

"He's not mad either…he knows you didn't mean for him to sit on it." She witnessed the girl's face relax immediately. "Next time I think we should just stick to whoopee cushions or something."

Audrey nodded, vowing silently that she would never, _ever_ again make another dangerous weapon like that. "Did he holler?" She knew she shouldn't ask, but she just had to know…if the weapon had worked the way she had intended.

"It was the loudest thing you ever heard." Nancy whispered smiling, noting the satisfied but hesitant grin on Audrey's face. She knew that this would probably be the last of the young girl's paperclip related pranks.

The conversation between the two was interrupted by the gentle electronic trill of Dave's cell phone, and he excused himself to take the call. His face soon changed from amused interest at the whispered conversation between Nancy and Audrey, to one of veiled concern. When he hung the cell phone up, he asked Vanessa if she would mind taking Audrey to the bathroom.

After the two girls were out of sight, he informed Nancy that he would be taking them to the airport for a flight home to Seattle. Their plane would be leaving at 6 p.m. Nancy nodded her understanding, a tremor of disquiet tracing a path through her body. She knew that if he wasn't at the arena during her match, she would never be able to feel comfortable getting in that ring.

"My ex-wife's mother, Leticia, has a pacemaker that was recalled recently." He referred to the rash of faulty pacemakers that Doctors all over the world were scrambling to replace for patients, before they failed altogether. "Her Doctor has scheduled her for surgery tomorrow at noon and Angie thinks it would be wise for the girls to be home just in case." He slid the phone back into his pocket. "I agree with her…Leticia's not in medical crisis, but I think they should be there in the event that something goes wrong."

"Definitely." Nancy nodded, slightly saddened to know that they were going to leave and she wouldn't be able to get to know his girls better.

After a moment of silence, he spoke. "Thank you." He said locking gazes with her.

"For what?"

"For having breakfast with us…for Vanessa's swimsuit…" He reached across the table to touch the citrine ring on her forefinger, and then to run his fingers down the back of her hand, clasping it in his own and turning her hand over in his so he could very gently kiss the palm. "…For making my daughter smile." He laid her hand back on the table, still touching her slender fingers with his own. "You know she pouted and was in near tears all night and half of the morning over that pack of gum." He explained, still suspecting that her tears were due to more than the gum.

"Well you know girls…" Nancy commented, unable to think of anything more than the searing heat in her palm where he had just kissed, the disarming warmth of his fingers on hers, and the violently unsteady hammering of her heart. "Sometimes our emotions run over us."

He wouldn't tell her that his daughter wasn't the only one with out of control emotions. "Thank you." He said again, hearing her respond with "You're welcome", and then releasing her hand reluctantly when his girls returned to the table. Dave gave a brief recap of his call home and then amidst a chorus of disappointed groans from his daughters, he announced that they should go pack and then he stood up. "After I pack them, I'll meet you in front of your cabana so we can train and then I'll take them swimming a little later on before their flight, maybe you'll feel like joining in?" He hoped she would say 'yes'.

Nancy nodded and prepared to stand and tell the trio goodbye, she was stopped however, by Audrey who had extracted her hand from her father's and run, scrambling up into Nancy's lap for a hug. "I'm sorry and thanks for not telling Daddy on me." She whispered again in Nancy's ear, wrapping her tiny arms around her neck. Nancy was caught off guard, surprised and baffled, but pleased nevertheless. Audrey didn't stop there, she planted a very hard, very sticky kiss on Nancy's cheek and then pulled back with a smile and said "You smell good…like strawberries."

Dave was floored by the simple revelation. That's exactly what it had been…her scent…the scent that strangely he hadn't been able to pin down for the life of him, the scent that had been driving him mad every time he had been in close proximity to her, touched her, kissed her. That enticing aroma of patchouli spice and…strawberries? And by damned it had taken his tiny tornado of a daughter and her sticky kiss to reveal it. He pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes, and held back the smile playing at the corners of his lips, as he watched Audrey scramble of Nancy's lap and slam into his leg again, wrapping her little arms around it. Vanessa too, hugged Nancy and thanked her generously for the swimsuit, promising again and again to work hard on her designs so that the next time they saw one another she would have something for Nancy to look at. _'Next time'_ He thought, and realized that he hoped there would be.

There was a soft spoken reminder from him of their meeting later, and then she watched as Dave Batista, with one muscular arm, whipped his littlest daughter up onto his hip so he could carry her and then straightening her helmet as they walked away, she could see that he was listening intently to her words. Nancy watched as Vanessa turned once more and waved and she was silently grateful that those girls had the family life that she had never had. Their parents were divorced yes, but they had a devoted, responsible mother and a wonderful and attentive father. They would grow up just fine.

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"We won't get in trouble for being in here?" Nancy asked timidly, following Dave Batista up the steel stairs into the 24' by 24' RAW ring, which had not yet been disassembled, as it was needed for Monday Night RAW live…the second WWE appearance in Puerto Rico.

He sat on the middle rope, holding it down so she could step over it into the ring.

"Of course not…we both work here remember?" He came up off of the rope and watched her turn around staring up into the lights of the empty arena.

"So this is what it's like, huh?" Nancy turned slowly a mixture of wonderment and fear on her face. "This is intimidating."

"At first…" Dave nodded in agreement. "But after awhile it gets better…it becomes an addiction, you learn to feed off of it and then there's no fear anymore." His words seemed so sincere, as if he truly felt them in his heart and she wondered if she could ever come to a point in her life where there would be no fear.

"You're not going to body-slam me are you?" She asked wringing her hands apprehensively.

He almost laughed out loud. "No I won't." He decided against telling her how tempted he was to do that very thing, only not inside a wrestling ring and not with the intention of letting her kick out before the count of three. He warned the inner animal to stay silent and then approached her, all the while explaining to her how it was customary to work the left arm in wrestling. "You'll automatically be able to rest assured that he's never going to grab you by the right arm, only the left." He grasped her left arm gently and pulled her forward. "When he pulls you, don't fight him…" He spoke seriously, looking her in the eyes. "Let him. You aren't strong enough to counter him, you'll only get hurt."

He pulled her completely forward, toward his body as he informed her, "He'll send you past him and when he turns, like this…he'll place his hand on your back and push you into the ropes." Dave stopped there. "Now here's where it gets tricky for someone who hasn't trained…" He explained. "Don't just try to go flying into the ropes with the front of your body, because you'll only bounce off and fall on your ass." She nodded, smiling. "When you're about to hit the ropes, turn your body, like this…" He used his own body for an example. "Let your right side, sort of almost on your back…" He said, bouncing into the ropes himself. "Let your body hit like this, grasp the rope with your arm over it and then as you bounce off, take a step…_don't_ forget to take a step, or you'll fall flat on your face and then he's just gonna be all over you."

After a few minutes of instruction, Nancy decided that he was quite capable of teaching her everything she could possibly need to know, he was surprisingly agile for his immense size and lightening fast, but he was also very patient; something she appreciated. Nancy was happy that he had dispensed with the wrestling lingo, in lieu of plain English, during the course of his tutelage. "He's probably going to play up to the cameras using your inexperience to do it…and so I'm guessing he'll wanna stay in close to you for most of the match…doing things that require little to no wrestling knowledge….things that look a whole lot rougher than they actually are." Dave rounded on her and then with reluctance, explained that he was going to teach her how to take a bump. "You have to know how to fall or else when he hits you, and rest assured he will hit you, you'll go down wrong and it's gonna hurt even worse." He explained to her the basics on how to fall flat on her back, with her legs bent, rather than on her rear-end, where she could possibly injure her tailbone. "Don't put your arm down or you could break it and after you fall, roll over and get up…keep your fingers bent inward so they don't get stepped on."

He worked with her on the movement, surprised that she never complained. Time after time, slamming backward into the mat…she had the movement down in just a few minutes.

He lifted her up, pulling her by the arm and watched her rub her lower back with one hand, as she laughed. "Now I know why I chose design as a career." He smiled. Even though he had great respect for female wrestlers, he knew, looking at her, that she didn't belong in the ring, and he didn't want her there either. But pushing aside his thoughts and resuming his instruction, he motioned for her to stand against the turnbuckle. "He's famous for choking people, and since I know he'll want to be close for most of the match…I'll almost bet he'll choke you into the corner." Dave was hesitant to show her how to be choked and sell it well, he had never put his hands on a woman in violence and it bothered him to do it just for the purposes of teaching He stood in front of her as she backed into the corner, and watched as she looked up at him through her lashes, biting the inside of her cheek. "His hands are going to end up, about…right here." He placed his hands at the base of her throat, his jaw pulsing with the conflict, the incomprehensible thought of someone putting their hands around her neck. "Thumbs upward, he'll just press in and…" His hands on her silken skin and the look of absolute fear as her hands flew up to grasp at his wrist before he could even apply any pressure. Though it was only meant to prepare Nancy, the act of choking her, so galled him, that he could go no further and he pulled his hands down from her neck slowly. He was breathing heavier than before, the recognition of something likened to terror flashing behind her eyes…it was as if she had lost her breath before he'd touched her…he saw the way her eyes could not meet his instead they riveted from left to right, the tip of her tongue darting out to rewet her lips. Nancy sighed heavily. She had been afraid and he couldn't help but wonder why.

"When he does that…" Dave cleared his throat. "Stand on your toes, and press your back against the turnbuckle, jut your hips out a bit and it will take the pressure off of your lower back, It also looks good for the camera but don't lean forward or you'll lose your balance." He watched her subtly shake off the haze of dread that had cloaked her and she lifted her chin rebelliously the way she always did when she was trying to be brave. He worked with her for another half hour, showing her as much as he could possibly squeeze into the tight timeframe, but he was still afraid that it wouldn't be enough.

"Now I'm going to show you how to tap out to his signature submission move." Dave led her to the center of the ring. "Lie down on your stomach." The simple command sent a shock of desire through his loins, but it was her unquestioned obedience, her unspoken trust, that caused the animal to revolt against the idea of gentlemanly restraint. He knew what he wanted to do to her while she lay there, and it had nothing to do with teaching her how to tap out. He had an irresistible urge to shake the top rope until all four corner posts snapped. He stood there for a moment trying to calm his body, despite the rebellious voice of the beast.

"Well if it takes him this long to make me tap, then there may be hope for me winning yet." She said mockingly. "Are you in there?"

He snapped back into reality. "You know what, turn over and I'll just show you the move from the beginning…remember…you're supposed to lose, so don't try to kick him off, just let him get you into 'The Walls' and tap out right away."

She turned over on her back, and looked up at him, towering over her. He was formidable, a veritable mountain…more than a bit intimidating. She was glad he was _for_ her and not _against_ her.

"He's gonna grab your legs like this." He lifted her legs, causing her to slide forward. Ignoring her cry of surprise…he tucked her legs between his arms and torso. But the feel of the inside of her thighs around his waist was very nearly ripping his self-control to shreds. "He'll turn you over, like this, pushing you downward and stepping over your back." His voice was strained. "Turn with him." He said starting the roll, and stepping over her back. He bent his legs locking in the move.

"Ow, ow, ow! Okay, okay!" She hollered out, tapping the mat furiously and laughing.

He chuckled and released his hold on her legs. "I didn't even apply much pressure."

"I know, but it still hurts." She admitted and he knew that it did. She rolled over on her back and accepted the offer of his hand to help her to her feet.

"I feel a lot better about the match." She lied…she didn't feel better about it, she didn't want to get into a ring. Even though she had enjoyed his teaching, she would rather be watching _him_ tear through countless opponents than be inside of these ropes herself defending her own body against just one.

Dave knew Nancy was lying, he could see the divergence in her eyes and her the denial in her words. He hated the thought that he'd failed her in his attempt to talk Eric Bischoff out of the match. And even though he knew that wrestling was a prearranged orchestration of entertainment…he also knew that she had the potential to be hurt, and that was causing him immeasurable guilt. "I'm glad, I could help." He said softly…he would let her save face, preserve her pride…because it's what he would have appreciated had he found himself in her shoes.

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Her long curls whipped back when she lifted her head, after dry-heaving for the third time since reaching the arena. Nothing noteworthy would be coming up, that she well knew. Nancy had been so nervous that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. She'd been apprehensive about swimming with Dave and his girls, nervous about Vanessa and her swimsuit, but thankfully it had fit perfectly, been just as tasteful as she had intended it to be and Dave had approved. It was a weight lifted off of her shoulders, only to be replaced by the looming black cloud of Chris Jericho.

She had less than fifteen minutes until her match started and Dave was nowhere to be found, she was hunched over a not so fresh toilet in the women's locker room and Max was hounding her from outside of the stall. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she had half considered flushing her own head down the toilet.

"Would you stop doing that?" Max asked tapping the stall door, referring to the involuntary dry heave.

He wasn't able to see the finger gesture that followed as Nancy flushed the toilet yet, again.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, a frown marring his face, as he leaned against the wall.

"Nope…I _always_ dry heave when you're around." Nancy answered sarcastically.

He noticed that her voice was shaky and weak, as she sat down on the bench in the bathroom. "You're not supposed to be in here anyway." She remarked with her eyes closed, her head leaned back against the wall.

"I don't care, besides etiquette doesn't matter to me right now anyhow." Max kneeled down in front of Nancy and took her trembling hands in his. "Okay, I know lover-boy showed you some moves and what not, but I have a plan and I think if you can remember to follow it, then everything will come out all right."

"Max, "She said frowning. "Stop using slang names…My brain is only working on one cylinder as it is and I swear I feel like I can't breathe." She pushed his hands off and walked to the sink, splashing cold water on her face. She could imagine herself sealed inside of a metal can…feeling terribly claustrophobic.

"Well, that's why you need my help." He said as she sank back down on the bench. "My plan is for you to stay away from him as long as possible, just run around in the ring if you have to, but don't let him get his hands on you." He was bent excitedly in a feigned fighting stance. "Then when he corners you, kick him in the nuts!"

She faced Max with an incredulous stare. "That's your plan?" She spoke calmly, yet surprised. "Run around and then kick him in the nuts?" She shook her head. "Max did your mother give birth in a room full of magnets?" She watched him shake his head as if it were a completely legitimate question. "Thanks for the advice, but I think I'll stick to what Dave showed me."

"Now, Nancy…I'm telling you it'll work…I've been kicked in the nuts enough to know." Max held on to his jewels as if the mere mention of it might curse him into revisiting the event.

"I'm not supposed to win, Max." Nancy said standing up just as a female producer stepped inside the bathroom, motioning for her to follow.

"I'll be by a monitor." Max gave her a quick hug and watched as she walked away with the producer as if she were being led away to the gallows.

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Sitting in the very top tier of the arena, concealed in the shadows, Dave felt much better than he had a half hour ago, when he'd been hauling ass down the road, praying that he would make it back to the arena and that Eric Bischoff hadn't bumped Nancy's match up just to spite him. He had taken his daughters into the airport, put them on the plane, watched the behemoth Boeing lift off and then he'd raced back as fast as he could, arriving through a back entryway only ten minutes before the match.

He had decided against visiting Nancy before the match. He knew if had seen her face, that he wouldn't have let her go through with it. The temptation had struck him halfway back to the arena, that he should just abduct her and run away again while he still had the chance…the logic of what consequence she might in turn face, for _his_ behavior was the only thing that stopped him from doing so.

Dave Batista fixed his eyes on the center of the ring, where Lillian Garcia had now assembled. Her clear voice rang out in announcement. "Ladies and Gentleman…" She began. "This next match will be Monday Night Raw's very _first_ Inter-Gender, Intra-Staff Match!" She circled as she spoke. "This match is a No Disqualification match…There will be no count outs. The winner may win by pin fall or submission."

He listened as she began to introduce Chris Jericho and the lights began to fade and then flash with his entrance music and video. Dave's jaw, convulsed repeatedly, as he contemplated the impending scuffle. The typical hoopla ensued as Chris climbed the steel steps and leaned against the ropes in his usual fashion. He had a deviant glare etched into his face and a surety that irked Dave Batista to barely leashed fury. He couldn't help but feel that if it were he and Chris about to engage in battle, that the petulant look on Chris's face would not have been there.

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Nancy stood behind the curtain listening to the soothing verbal prompts from the female producer who was prepared to help cue her out into the arena. As soon as Lillian began to announce her, the producer smiled and nudged Nancy in the back. She moved forward, out from behind the curtain and into the blinding, explosively loud atmosphere of the crowded, somewhat venomous arena. There was no entrance music for Nancy but there was plenty of animosity from the crowd. She couldn't help but feel a little bit like she was being forced to walk the plank, only without the beautiful dress or the chivalrous sailor to rescue her and…with every pirate in the world looking on, awaiting her fate. She half wished that someone had taken the time to give her some sort of entrance theme…even Doink the Clown's entrance would have been better than nothing. Nancy couldn't look to the left nor to the right…She could do little more than stare forward as she descended the ramp slowly. The insults that Chris was hurling at her from the center of the ring, like fiery darts, were pumping the crowd up, and she felt something uncomfortably familiar…she felt hated.

He watched with empathy as she walked down the ramp, no music, wearing the workout suit he had bought for her more than two weeks ago, minus the jacket, which exposed her tiny frame. She looked so small in comparison to Chris, almost like a little girl. The only difference was that she was walking, however fearful, with her shoulders held high and her chin, stiff as ever. She was determined to appear brave even if it proved to be the death of her, and Dave thought remorsefully, _'It very well may be'_

Chris was hungry for a little old fashioned revenge, even though he knew he was supposed to take consideration for her lack of knowledge. There was no harm in showing her why it was foolish to mess with someone of his caliber. He had thought long and hard about all of the subtle things that he could do just to strike fear in her…to teach her a much needed lesson about manners and about minding her own business. He had been told by Eric to play up to the crowd, but to show care in how he dealt with her…and yet he had also been told that he had carte blanche with her if he chose to play mind games. _'Scare the hell out of her if you want, just don't injure her.'_ Eric had ordered. Well, Chris couldn't control everything in the known universe, now could he? And so if she got a little boo-boo while in the ring, then so be it. He smiled at the prospect of the damage he could inflict.

Nancy stepped hesitantly between the ropes into the ring and was barely granted a moment to right herself, when the bell was rung and Chris began to slowly circle her, laughing and jeering. The look of malicious disdain on his face caused her to freeze suddenly devoid of the few things she had learned. If this were supposed to be prearranged, then why in the world did he look so ready to smash her into pieces? She turned to face him as he began to scold her for the deed of trashing his keys. It wouldn't do any good to tell him that she hadn't done what he accused her of. A verbal defense had never helped in Nancy's experience and so to maintain her pride, she simply shrugged her shoulders as if she couldn't care less.

The gesture infuriated Chris, who instantly reached out and seized a large section of the hair on the back of her head, pulling her up so that his face could be nearer to hers. She cried out in pain and surprise as he clenched his jaw and spoke to her harshly. "You know…I was gonna take it easy on you since it's your _first_ time…" He took a moment to glance down the front of her body and then shook her forcefully. "But now that I know you're not sorry for what you did…and you're just gonna be a smartass…then I'm going to do all the things I was asked _not_ to do!" His voice was a violent low growl, his face contorted into a fearful glower and she had to grasp his forearms to keep her balance. His hands were tangled through her curls, as he walked her backwards toward the ropes. "I just bet you'll be begging me to forgive you before this match is over." He let go of her hair, shoving her backward.

Nancy managed to keep her balance as she was shoved backward into the ropes, but the anger that zipped through her blood at the harsh threat was almost uncontrollable. She was more humiliated than she had been in a long time, and as he stood in front of her laughing and pointing, she lifted her arm with all of the force she could possibly muster and slapped him squarely in the face. If _he_ could play rough then _so_ could she.

Dave could see Chris' head reel from all the way in the top tier and he nearly laughed out loud. He hadn't taught her that particular move, but he approved of it nonetheless. Despite his pride in her, he knew what was about to happen. He could clearly see the pure rage radiating from Chris as he whipped Nancy forward into the ropes. She turned just as he had taught her, at the last second. Dave flinched, seeing the twist of Jericho's hip, a precursor to a hell of a devastating kick. Dave knew that the whole match would be over in seconds if he made contact. Nancy must have seen it or sensed it for she hung her arms behind the rope, preventing the slingshot and thus keeping herself from being kicked fully in the face. Dave felt a wash of nausea, but relief…she seemed to have an instinct for bad intentions, because for the next thirty seconds she successfully evaded his attempts to grab hold of her.

He finally caught her by the arm and in a blind rage, slinging her into the turnbuckle. Thank goodness she had remembered to turn around so that her back would hit and not her face. She looked absolutely terrified as Chris loomed down upon her, wrapping his hands around her neck, just as Dave had known he would.

Nancy felt as if the life was slipping out of her, as he pressed his thumbs against her wind pipe…wrestling wasn't real and yet his hands, wrapped aggressively around her throat seemed as real as anything she'd felt in a long time. She pushed her hips forward and breathed a ragged sigh of relief when the referee forced Chris to break the hold. Nancy had little to no time to evade him, as he sliced his hand across her chest in a hard chop that stole away what little breath she had recovered from the choke hold. She sputtered a small cough grasping her chest amidst a chorus of 'Woooo's' in the arena and then a memory…a snip-it of a match she had seen once while passing a monitor…flashed through her head.

Just as he came toward her, she lifted her hand and with two fingers, jabbed Chris Jericho right in the eyes. Nancy had remembered seeing Ric Flair do the same thing, and her memory had been jarred by the chorus of Wooo's. She watched with shock and trepidation as he doubled over holding his face, spewing forth a plethora of choice obscenities, staggering backward.

Brian Hebner warned her, but there was no time for Brian to move out of the way. Nancy saw Chris jutting his body into a spear, tearing across the ring like a bull and she dropped down to her knees behind Brian and rolled out of the way, a grimace of panic on her face. She had luckily missed the deadly spear, but Brian had been hit squarely in his middle and he dropped like a stone. He certainly didn't show any signs that he would be getting up anytime soon.

Chris was livid, none of this had gone the way he'd anticipated…he'd been slapped in the face almost as hard as Stephanie McMahon could wallop and evaded, poked in the eye and now she'd slipped past him again! The gloves were off…he had no intention of letting her out of this ring without first gifting her with some sort of physical souvenir. He was determined not to let her _ever_ forget this encounter.

Chris stepped over the downed referee and stalked her across the canvas, as she continued to sidestep. Practically having to chase her was thoroughly pissing him off, and he lashed out snatching her by the hair again, shaking and dragging her. "You stupid, stupid bitch." He ground out through his clenched teeth and then threw her by the hair, straight down to her back on the canvas. It took only a millisecond for him to take hold of her legs, in the same way that Dave had shown her he would. She remembered his advice, knowing that if she didn't roll with him, he would likely tear out her knee or torque her back violently.

Chris stepped over her back and she rolled with him. She was tapping wildly as soon as he pressed his body down against her lower back, but the referee was still out. The match could not be stopped if the referee could not see Nancy tap. Chris screamed out in primal rage, and released her legs, dragging her nearer to the side of the ring. Nancy had less than zero energy to fight him off as he rolled her on her back, and then from the bottom rope, he perched and executed a perfect but lethal Lionsault. There was nothing she could do but accept the impact of the front of his body on hers, and all of the air that her lungs had been preserving, was painfully extracted from them in a mere second, leaving her completely down for the count.

Nancy was so utterly dazed that she simply lay on her side, praying that he would pin her soon as she dragged in the heavy, ragged breaths. Soon the sound of metal on flesh could be heard along with the enormous pop of the crowd. The ring shook all around her as if a bolt of lightening had struck the center of the canvas, and then she felt herself being dragged by both arms, over the top of a lifeless lump of human flesh. Nancy heard the bell ring and saw a blur of white. Had she not been blinded by the arena lights she might have believed she had gone into shock whilst lying there.

What she had _not_ seen was the unexpected emergence of Dave Batista, while Jericho was hunched over the referee mercilessly slapping his face to awaken him. She also had not borne witness to the chair in Dave Batista's hands, making devastating contact with Chris' head, nor the devilish smile on his face when he hoisted Chris over his head and brought him down with cataclysmic force into the mat. Dave had lifted up Brian Hebner by his breeches and dropped him on his belly in front of Chris…but not before he had dragged Nancy across the ring and positioned her lethargic body over the top of Chris Jericho for the pin. Brian had awakened from his spear induced stupor and slapped his hand against the mat thrice, giving Nancy the victory.

Now Dave was above her his face twisted into a smile and mere inches from hers, his huge hand pushing aside a stray curl. He laughed when she looked strangely at him as if she'd just come emerged from a coma…and very nearly she had. "Wake up Sleeping Beauty…" He gently coaxed her upper body off of the mat, holding her against his kneeling legs.

Nancy's eyes fluttered open again and through the haze of near unconsciousness, she reached her hand out and cupped his cheek, smiling as if she was still under the influence of a sedative…a very powerful sedative. "Oh…it's you…", she murmured.

He laughed, seeing her in a somewhat addle brained state. "You won…" He began to lift her, up…his intent, being their exit from the ring before Eric Bischoff could come out and restyle the stipulations of the match, starting the whole thing over as he had been prone to do in the past. "You have to stand up so the ref can lift your hand."

Dave pulled her body to a standing position, albeit a wobbly one, and then hauled Brian up to his feet. He then lifted the hand of the unsteady, dazed referee and the hand of a weaving, jelly-legged seamstress, clasping them together and lifting them high until he heard Lillian announce Nancy as the victor.

He let go of Brian Hebner and wasn't surprised when he nearly collapsed. Taking Nancy's hand he tugged her against him for a swift hug, glorying it the ironic turn of events that he alone was completely responsible for. "Let's get the hell out of here." He helped her through the ropes and lifted her to the ground, his hand on her back, looking over his shoulder as they ascended the ramp amidst the wild ruckus of the crowd.

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	20. Chapter 19

Uncommon Sense Chapter 19  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Nothing happens by chance, my friend... No such thing as luck. A meaning behind every little thing, and such a meaning behind this. Part for you, part for me, may not see it all real clear right now, but we will, before long."

-_Richard Bach, Nothing by Chance: A Gypsy Pilot's Adventures in Modern America, 1969_

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Once he led her behind the curtain, Dave Batista pulled Nancy into the shadows. He could feel the tremble in her body, surely a mix of adrenaline and fear. "You're shaking like a leaf." He observed softly, rubbing her back. It half dawned on him that if she didn't get her feet under her he might be forced to carry her.

He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes, trying to gauge if they were dilated. "Are you in there?" He joked. "You didn't hit your head or something, did you?" He grinned as she shook her head from side to side. She hadn't been injured badly, just knocked senseless.

He pulled her back out into the lit corridor and holding her hand, led her toward the women's locker room.

"Nancy!" Max hollered and ran up behind them. "That was the craziest thing I've ever seen!" The smile on his face was a bittersweet reward and he hugged Nancy tightly, lifting her off of her feet and bouncing her. "Wow…" He said in a concerned tone, setting her back on her feet. "You're shakin' like a dog shittin' apples, are you okay?"

Nancy nodded and released him. "I just wanna go shower and get out of here can you cover for me?"

"Of course I can." Max winked and lightly pinched her nose. "Oh, and don't wait up for me…Vicki and I…well we, uh…I'll just see you in the morning." He turned to Dave and extended his hand. "Thank you, for helping…" His words were sincere, but as always he ended every conversation with a jest. "I would have come to her rescue, but they don't make wrestling gear in my size."

Dave nodded, reluctant to forgive Max, but smart enough to know that if he wanted to be a part of Nancy's life…he had to accept Max. Dave shook his hand firmly and he and Nancy watched as Max walked away. His hand on her lower back, they proceeded down the hall, but before reaching the women's locker room they were approached by Eric Bischoff, Vince and Stephanie McMahon. Nancy's heart began another wild cadence, watching them walking side by side down the hallway…they resembled a defensive line on a football field.

"Nancy…" Vince was the first to speak. "Hell of an interesting turn of events don't you think?" His voice was jovial, but Nancy was too fearful to even respond, deciding that it could be a loaded question. "And Eric, I must say…that was a hell of an innovation, transferring the rivalry, by shifting the focus off of her…" He gestured toward Nancy as he spoke with a smile to Eric. "…to Dave Batista." Vince nodded apparently impressed. "When did you decide to change the format?"

Eric ducked his head, nervously and then lifted his gaze, planting an arrogant smile on his face and fixing Nancy with a look that made her blood run cold. "Well, Vince…like most of the events around here at RAW…it was impromptu at best…sort of one of those last minute…spontaneous changes."

"Well it was a damned good decision, Dave I like your style…" He turned to shake hands with Dave and then extended his hand toward Nancy. "I'm impressed with your instincts…maybe we should start digging for talent in the back more often." His obligatory nod was followed by a smile and gesture to Stephanie.

Nancy breathed a small sigh of relief though only Vince had walked away…she noticed a twinkle in the eye of Stephanie McMahon as she smiled and shook her hand. "Whoever said a little girlie slap couldn't do some good…nice job." She then winked at Dave as if they shared a secret and then followed her father down the hallway.

Eric's feigned civility dripped from his constructed expression the moment the two McMahons were out of earshot and he pointed a finger straight at Dave. "Don't you _dare_ assume that you've gotten yourself out of paying some sort of penance!" He seethed and then turned his heated gaze onto Nancy. "I would be careful if I were you! You're on thin ice as it is!" He stomped off, the lapels of his coat flying out beside his body as he went.

Dave bit his lower lip, and then releasing it, twisted his mouth into a smile. "Don't worry about him…Go take your shower, I'll wait." And he did, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall.

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Very few words had been said between the she and Dave after leaving the arena, Nancy had been lost in her thoughts, pondering the match. She gazed out toward the road, the palm trees and torches passing by in a blur, much like the last forty-five seconds of her match. Pulling up in front of the path to his cabana was comforting and unsettling all in one. Strangely, she found she wasn't afraid to go in with him, a friendly drink maybe and then she would go back to her cabana for some much needed rest. Her plane would be leaving Puerto Rico bound for Albuquerque, New Mexico the following evening. She wasn't sure about his plans and she found regretfully that she was almost afraid to think about his plans. The thought of possibly not seeing him at the next hotel troubled her.

Nancy followed him up the pathway and stood behind him as he unlocked the door, opened it and then allowed her to pass in front of him. The living area was dimly lit by one floor lamp, behind an oversized, slip-covered chair, its light casting a glow over the ebony floor. Nancy swept her gaze from left to right, taking in the posh but relaxed cabana which had certainly been much nicer…and surely much more expensive than the one she was sharing with Max. "This is beautiful." She admitted, with timidity, walking further inside, appreciating the laidback yet indulgent tastes of the designer who had put his or her mark on this particular cabana.

"I like it…" Dave said closing the door behind him leaning back against it as he looked around at the some of the same things she had been appreciating. "It's comfortable."

Nancy wondered if this particular environment was his taste…if this might have been the same type of design he would have chosen for his own home. "Is it like your condo?" She asked, wondering if she was too forward. She found it pleasing to think about the way he lived outside of what she already knew about him.

"No." He shook his head, walking away from the door, tossing his keys in a dish on the table beside it. "I bought the condo right after my divorce and met with a designer the day of the purchase…I must have been in a bad mood and she just keyed in on that because that's how she designed it…I don't enjoy being there very much…its cold…hard lines, angles, concrete and steel." He looked around appreciating the cabana even more. "But its Audrey proof…she can't really break anything as long as I remember to move the prized possessions when she comes."

Nancy laughed a little thinking about Audrey. "I'm sure she'll grow out of it." She said referring fondly to her whirlwind ways.

"Why should she? I never did." Dave said, grinning.

An awkward silence descended on them both, forcing Nancy to turn and examine the bookshelf in the corner, lined with different volumes of classics. She was suffocating on the tension that he created every time he was close, even if he was across the room.

"Are you hungry?" Dave felt strangely self-conscious, it was like a first date again. "I can call out for something if you want."

"No." Nancy smiled, "I'm too keyed up to eat. I'd like something to drink, though?" She lifted her eyebrows expectantly, as she placed her purse on the table by the wall.

Dave watched her walk the length of the room as he shuffled through the compartments of the wet bar, seeking wine glasses to go with the bottle of wine that had been left for the cabana's occupants. He liked watching her…he could do it for hours, he thought. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, curling mercilessly in tempting swirls down the middle of her back. He furrowed his brow and smiled, secretly appreciating the fact that she again was casting off her shoes. She hardly ever wore them…why should tonight be any different? Nancy was staring at the framed art on the wall, she spoke a random name and he was surprised that she had known who the artist was…he had not…it made him wonder how she was acquainted with so many things related to high society and culture, when she had spent most of her life in a mid-sized Texas town.

He approached her from behind and reached politely around her gifting her with the glass of wine.

"Thank you." She accepted it and stood in the spot, even as he walked to the sofa and sank down into it. It appeared temptingly comfortable and had she not been so nervous she would have already flopped down onto it. As it was, she was exhilarated and unnerved by his presence and yet she didn't relish the thought of looking like an idiot, just standing there, when the sofa was large enough for the both of them to sit. Nancy rounded slowly to the opposite end of the sofa and sank down into its welcoming lushness. She placed her wine glass on the coffee table long enough to tuck her legs up underneath her and adjust her skirt over them, then she picked the wine back up and sipped slowly. There was turmoil within her, a constant question that as yet, still remained without an answer and was just as urgently in need of one. The intense heat of his stare was causing her to lose track of her thoughts and she was grateful when he looked away for a moment. "I was supposed to lose." She reminded him softly, tracing the rim of her glass with one elegant finger. "Why did you change the plan?"

He nodded, somewhat appreciative of her inquisitiveness, even if he had hoped he wouldn't be required to explain. "Chris changed the plan…" He fixed his eyes on her lips, slightly wet from the wine. "I just adapted to it…that's all." He didn't brag, his voice simply stated the obvious, with no inflection or flattery.

Nancy nodded, his explanation failed to answer to her question. She probed deeper, almost afraid to know the answer. "You keep coming to my rescue…" She announced. "First the bus, then at the pool…and tonight." She stared down into her wine glass. "Why?"

Though her voice had been soft and placid, it was equivalent to a karate chop across the bridge of the nose…the question caught him completely by surprise, forcing him to think…to put a name to his reasons…to give life to his excuse…to admit something that he didn't yet know if he could. "Wow…um…" He lifted his eyebrows while he pondered it…but he didn't want to think about it…his mind was numb to everything but the sight of her knee peeking out from beneath her skirt, and the innocent view of it. She was close…closer than should be considered safe…for him and her both and far too intelligent and curious for her own good. "You didn't ask for it…" He admitted. "But you needed it." His voice was quiet and even, smooth and liquid. It caused her belly to quiver.

"Thank you…" Nancy was sincere. "I will never be able to do anything that could… repay you for…your help." Her words were almost an admission of inadequacy. She splayed her hand on her leg, smoothing a wrinkle from her skirt.

He hadn't wanted payment, he hadn't needed acknowledgment. "You owe me nothing." Dave smiled nonchalantly and swirled the liquid around in his glass, staring at it. He lifted his eyes and found hers searching his. "I've never done anything in my life just because I had to."

His declaration was as believable as any could have been and Nancy doubted that _anyone_ could have ever made Dave Batista do something he hadn't truly wanted to do. She smiled and nodded. "That's a relief…after all that talk of Eric's about paying penance, I may need more help yet." She took another sip of her wine, a careless dribble sliding down her chin and dripping down onto the skin between her breasts.

The sight of it was almost Dave's undoing and without hesitation, he reached out to brazenly catch the dribble between her breasts with his forefinger, tracing its trail upward past her collar bone and then curling his hand around the back of her neck. He leaned forward and placed his mouth on her chin, gently tasting the fallen wine with his tongue and then kissing a path up to her lips. He pulled his mouth away from hers but still held onto her neck with his hand, reluctant to let go of her. The look of shock in her light green eyes was quickly replaced with a look of need. Dave contemplated how much further he could safely go before he crossed a line where he could not stop.

Nancy's cheeks were aflame with the blush of need and her lips, bruised by his kiss, were tingling with a desire for more of the same, but letting him in even this far meant she might have to let him in all the way…she couldn't…she couldn't start something that she knew she would not finish…if they became anything more than what they had already dared to become, then she would have to tell him the truth…come clean about her past. She could not…no one wanted to be forever shackled to someone who was so terribly flawed. It was too risky, too dangerous…but it was what she wanted, what she had thought of, dreamed of…even so, he deserved better…his daughters deserved better. And if he knew, _truly_ knew the dynamic of who she was…he would be disgusted that he had ever paid her any mind whatsoever. She stood and placed the wine glass on the coffee table, trying not to meet with his eyes. It was time for her to leave before things went any further.

He felt her hesitation and yet he couldn't let her leave, _wouldn't_ let her leave, at least not until she knew…he knew, what this was…what it could, or wouldn't be. He stood with her, clasping her hand and turning her gently to face him. "I don't want you to leave." His eyes pierced her with a surety, and the words came out in a whisper before he could stop them. He had never in his life asked a woman to stay…they just always _had_, he realized. He'd never had to put forth so much effort with someone as he had with her, and yet he found it so easy and so rewarding…before it had always just been a swift shedding of clothing, a hard rutting and some meaningless, parting words. But he had never spoken words like _these_, never admitted he wanted someone. His hands came to rest against the sides of her face, his fingers curling around the back of her neck, and he brushed his lips across her brow, relishing the feel of her hands on his arms, the tranquil warmth of her.

"Stay…" A request? A command? She could not tell the difference as he spoke, his lips following the line of her jaw. "Don't leave." He was whispering in her ear, the heat from the front of his body, scorching her chest and belly. He searched her eyes and found the unspoken answer to his question…it was all he needed. His mouth crashed down on hers with gentle but unyielding insistence, tasting the sweetness he'd only sampled before. Dave felt her hands on his waist, her slender fingers clenching into the fabric of his shirt. He knew he could have cast care aside and taken her on the living room floor, but he would not. He pulled away again, noticing the glaze of desire that had pooled in her eyes, the swollen redness of her lips and the heated flush that had made its appearance on the satin skin of her chest.

Nancy could not deny what she wanted, what he was summoning forth in her…her betraying body had already begun to react, a tender throb pulsing at her core and her stomach clenching tightly, she stared up at him. She saw the look of hunger in his eyes, mixed with something else, something she did not know, and even as he pulled her hands from his waist and allowed them to fall by her sides she was too mesmerized by the sheer force of who he was, to do anything but submit. Dave placed the finger tips of his hand on her chest, then lightly and smoothly guided her backward, around the sofa, slowly. Nancy was at arms length, and yet it felt as if she were welded to his fingers. He continued walking her backwards, a smile of determination and desire on his face, his hand never leaving her chest.

Down the hall slowly, a swirl of dizziness around her…a wave of longing undulating from where his hand made contact, all the way to her femininity. Nancy had no desire to stop…to run…his sheer sexuality robbing her of the worries that had almost overtaken her mere moments ago, bringing her to a point where she could scarcely remember what had bothered her. Through the door of his bedroom all the while his fingertips, the only pressure that led her, and bathed in torchlight, she could see his face still…a wash of impassioned desire and animalistic authority. He continued advancing on her as if he had hunted her, caught her and was now bringing her home. His eyes never left her face, would not allow her to look away. Her heart was hammering so loudly, her pulse pounding in her ears…she was aching for more than just the touch of his fingertips.

Dave reached his foot out and kicked the door shut behind them without looking, his eyes still holding her captive, while he led her with only the merest coaxing of his fingertips, to where he would have her. Her back thumped gently against the tall post of the footboard, her hair brushing against the netting that was tied to it. He noticed that she turned nervously to look and see with what she had made contact and then turned back to him, somewhat like a confused deer caught in the headlights. The only illumination came from the torches outside of the window and yet it was enough for him to see her quite clearly. The light shimmered off of the amber in her curls and he reached out to take hold of her hair, regretting that it had been pulled earlier. Dave slid his fingers through the mass and then pushed the tresses over her shoulder, grazing her neck with his thumb as he did so.

Nancy shivered, her eyes never leaving his, afraid he might disappear if she dared to look away. He kissed her again, cajoling her lips to part, with the gentle prodding of his tongue. Her mouth was yielding to his in a way that he could not have thought would effect him, and her hands around his neck, fingers playing gently against his skin was causing the tightly strung chord of gentlemanly patience to snap. He backed away from her once more momentarily and she saw the ripple of muscles in the torch light as he shed the cumbersome shirt. She sucked in a breath at the sight of him, light and shadows playing across the muscularity of his upper body, reminding her of just how perfect, how masculine he truly was. Nancy dared to reach out and glide the fingertips of one hand across his massive chest and down his rigid abdomen. His body was a juxtaposition of soft skin over rock hard muscle. She could have stared at him in awe for an eternity, but looking…was not all she found she wanted.

He suppressed a growl when she touched him. He wanted to take her right then, the very moment when her curious hand had ventured out to explore his chest. She was heartlessly breaking him down and the beast was surfacing…but he would not ruin it by simple satiation…he needed and wanted more. Dave reached out, taking Nancy's hands in his and he lifted her arms in the air above her head, pressing his body in closely against hers. "Leave them." Was his whispered command for her to hold her arms up, as he grazed his hands over the flesh of her wrists and arms and down over her breasts, her slender torso and under the hem of her blouse. He slowly slid his hands back up the same way he'd gone down, only this time, the blouse came with them. He lifted it off of her bare shoulders and over her head and arms, tossing it aside.

Her breasts were bared to him but still he would not let her take her arms down. "Leave them." He said once more, gently, lacing his fingers through hers, still above her head and then pressing his body against hers again. His lips found her mouth and he probed inside slowly with his tongue, finding hers and yet not unaware of the hardness of her nipples as they grazed the skin of his torso. He held her there as he explored the skin behind her ear, his nostrils filling with that blessed scent of hers, laving her earlobe with his tongue until he felt her shiver. A soft throaty laugh escaped him and he lightly bit her earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. Dave heard her gasp, softly and felt the gentle rush of air on his neck, when her breath escaped her.

Nervousness had fled and was replaced by an intense longing for more than just his hands on hers and his mouth on her ear. Nancy could feel his heart beating against her chest. Dear God, she could not stop…would not stop. For her, the point of no return had passed long before they'd ventured into his room…against his bed. She let him loop her arms around his thick neck and she didn't stop him when his hands curved around her backside, lifting her off of the ground. Nancy wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, her eyes searching his eyes in the dim light. She touched his lower lip with hers, put her hands around the back of his neck, teasing him with her lips until she heard him groan and felt him seat her on the edge of his bed. He stayed between her thighs for a moment more, devouring the flesh of her neck and then he backed away, a look of sheer sexual resolve on his face.

Again he placed his fingertips on her chest. A gesture meant only to enforce the notion that she would be willing to let him have her, with just the mere touch of his fingers. He used those tender fingertips to push her gently backward onto the coverlet, still standing between her thighs. When her back made contact with the bedding, he allowed his hand to trail lazily down her skin, between the valley of her breasts and across the taught plane of her stomach to the barrier of her skirt, all the while taking in the smooth shine of her skin, illuminated by the torches shining in from the south side of the cabana. He had to control himself and quash the urge to shred the skirt from her body. There would be a time for that, he knew…but now was not that time.

Her breathing was ragged and uneven as she lay looking up at him, his gaze still imprisoning her, his forefinger gently dipping below the line of her waistband, setting the flesh on fire in its wake. She felt his finger glide across her belly just under the edge of the fabric. It was madness, the throbbing just below where his finger played, the pounding of her heart in her head, the sheer undeniable need to feel every inch of him inside of her…she almost screamed out in aggravation at his slow pursuit of her.

His finger grazed the hipbone that protruded slightly and he smiled, she was becoming flustered…he knew how she was effecting him and was pleased to see that he was not alone in his frustration. He slid a second finger below the band of her skirt and then curving his hand under her bottom, he lifted her up so that he could slide the skirt down over her hips, allowing his fingers to rake over the flesh of her thighs in the process. A soft almost inaudible sigh from her lips as he did so, caused his loin to jerk and he clenched his jaw. The skirt fell in a soft puddle to the floor, leaving her panties as the only barrier.

Dave unbuckled his pants and let them fall on top of the skirt and then he leaned downward over her, pressing his hands against the mattress on either side of her. He held her there with his gaze, even as her hand framed his face, seeking his mouth with hers. He looped her arms around his neck again and whispered. "Hold on to me." Then he pulled her with him to the center of the bed as he rose above her.

He tugged gently until her panties slid off and became a memory like the other fabric on the floor. He brought his mouth down to the flesh of her breast, as he cupped it and circled his tongue around her hardened nipple. She arched her back as a soft moan slipped past her lips. His hands melded the flesh of her breasts even as he fought to maintain control of the inner beast who was cursing him for his restraint.

She could barely breathe as her hands grasped the back of his neck…his mouth on her breasts…his breath scorching her skin. Nancy felt the pressure of his knee nudging her thighs apart, as he rose again above her, resting on his elbows. He had known her curves would fit perfectly beneath him and he didn't dare give her rest from his kiss. She could feel the tip of his hardened length pressed gently against the entrance to her femininity.

Dave felt the slight wetness against the head of his shaft and it was almost more than he could bear, holding himself off…but he would not take what she had not said he could have. Part of him wanted…needed to hear her say that this was what she wanted. He pressed his cock just slightly harder against her…not enough to enter…but enough to elicit a moan and the soft insistence of her hips lifting beneath him. "Ask me."

Another command, as he placed his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. "What?" She asked confused, breathlessly, almost in a whimper. He smiled. He would hear it or he would go no further. "Ask me." He demanded again, and at her uncertainty, he kissed her firmly, impatiently, and then staring at her again he spoke. "You wanted it when you were watching me in the rafters…" His voice was a deep rumbling whisper. "Say it."

She knew what he wanted to hear and the feel of him at the juncture of her thighs, so ready to slide inside of her and fulfill her was almost excruciating. "I wasn't watching you." She insisted the same way she had when he'd caught her watching countless nights ago, but the sharp nip of his teeth on her shoulder and the ever present pressure between her legs was winning out. "Ask me…say it." His voice, though little more than a broken whisper was deep, insistent, dangerous.

Her breath came in rapid bursts at the coaxing of his teeth scraping her neck again and with the knowledge that she would have to admit to him what she had not yet admitted to herself. "You…I wanted you." Her admission was a mere murmur. "…like this…this way." She said against the flesh of his neck. He entered her swiftly, sinking himself deep inside of her as he covered her mouth with his own, drowning out her cry of surprise. His body almost gave him release that very first forceful stroke and so he ceased, inside of her, feeling her hands on his shoulders, giving them both time to adjust.

Nancy ran her hands down his back, as the heat from his body, radiated against her flesh. She felt Dave move again, sliding himself almost out and then slowly back inside until he created a furious ache that she was sure might never stop. He moved inside of her slowly, deliberately, his hands against her face forcing her eyes to meet with his. He possessed her lips again, as her hips rocked against him with every purposeful stroke. Her lips spoke words that he could not understand and he found himself holding back words that the beast was prompting him to say.

Dave entwined his fingers with hers and slid her arms above her head, gently pinning them there as his strokes became faster and more urgent. He would not end it so quickly. He found himself sliding his hand between them, raising himself up to graze the flesh of her belly with heated fingers and then to caress her swollen essence as he ceased his stroke. He smiled when she murmured a curse, a whimper of abandonment…her back arching, gently forcing her hips against his softly moving fingers, even as he was still buried inside of her.

She was fairly writhing beneath him at his teasing, and so he pinned her arms yet again, sliding his hardened length deep into her center until he heard her moan again. His movements were swift and she fought to gain release. He could feel the impending orgasm building inside of her body, as her sheath tightened and her breathing became more erratic. He released her hands as the first wave overtook her. She cried out, her back arching sharply, her hands grasping at the sheets beneath them. He drove himself deeper into her, gritting his teeth with the effort to hold off his own release, but the steady convulsing of her moist, heated sheath around his shaft was more than he could tolerate and in two more hard thrusts, he exploded inside of her, his body shuddering with the force of it.

He lay there above her, inside of her…nestled between her thighs for long moments until his breathing calmed. He pressed his lips against her forehead…he felt the fine sheen of sweat…the evidence of their joining…the only barrier between their bodies. He could detect the faint haze of desire still clouding her eyes when he looked at her. He pressed his lips once more against the flesh of her cheek and then smiled against her skin. Dave knew that he didn't want to sleep alone…not tonight…not after this. "Don't go." He whispered and rubbed his thumbs against the side of her face. "Sleep." He kissed her eyelid, another command which she was only too happy to oblige.

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Hours later, he sat there in the chair, watching her sleep. Dave leaned back, conflicted in every part of his soul. He sighed heavily, seeing Nancy there in his bed sleeping soundly on her stomach with the covers jumbled about her waist…the wind through the open windows, sending her sparkling curls into a dance across the satin skin of her back. His heart telling him that he was safe to let her in, to give her access to the inner sanctum of his soul, his mind was reminding him that he was a fool, that he had no resolve, that he'd ruin her if he stayed his course. The animal…his body was telling him to ignore the other two and take her again.

He'd been drawn in by her unconditional friendship, her humor, her zest for life and attracted to her physically but he had never counted on _this_. When had she become an addiction? When had he determined that he couldn't do without her? He hadn't known when that way of thinking had begun…he had fought the temptation to extend his feelings a hundred times before with others and been successful. So, why now? He hadn't been able to put into words how he'd felt until earlier when he'd forced _her_ to tell him. "…I wanted you, like this…this way." _She'd_ said it, but it was how _he'd_ felt. And now he was watching her stir lightly in her slumber as the wind blew her hair again across her back. It wasn't profound by any means, but it was her confession and his emotion… "like this…this way." He rose from the chair to return to the bed. He would have her again and to hell with what came tomorrow.

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It was some time in the middle of the night when through the fog of her sleep, she felt the gentle pressure of Dave's lips tracing a line up her spine, the persistent touch of his hand coaxing her thighs apart, His laugh at her groggy response and the soft whispered words in her ear as he slid himself inside of her again, to take her from behind.


	21. Chapter 20

Uncommon Sense Chapter 20  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead."

-_Benjamin Franklin_

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Something was tickling his nose, soft and intermittent. He was half certain, even without opening his eyes that he might soon wake to find Audrey's plastic sword pointed at his throat. There was no loud blaring of the alarm…only the sound of a bird and a soft distant native drum beat…and then there was the smell, almost indistinct, filling his nostrils…strawberries…her. Somehow the events of the past days were meshing together and in his drowsiness he was having trouble remembering exactly where he was. He was absolutely exhausted. Opening his eyes, told him that it was not Audrey's sword near his face, instead it was the ripple of the delicate cloth of the bed drapery that had come undone and was now fluttering in the air above him. And then the entire night played over in his head. A roll to his side and an extension of his arm onto the rumpled sheets beside him told Dave Batista that she was gone.

His brow creased as he rose up on one elbow, curious as to where she might have gone and why. A quick glance over the side of the bed and Dave could see that her clothing was still in a pile intertwined with his and he felt a strange sense of relief that she had not decided to leave out of shame or regret. Things were undeniably different this morning. Dave knew that he would not be able to look at her the same way again…they could never just be friends…not after last night. She had been responsive underneath him, in the persuasion of his practiced hands…she'd been reactive and bold all at the same time…he hadn't been able to get enough and neither had she. Dave had a hard time keeping the smile off of his face as he again looked at her clothes in a pile on the floor with his, remembering last night in scrumptiously vivid detail. The sound of the shower spray being turned on, forced him up off of the bed…So, that's where she was.

Nancy stepped into the stone shower wincing when the water hit her body…it was hot, soothing and reviving. She closed her eyes and sighed, an aching heaviness settling in her heart…she was in quite a situation. It would be one thing if her involvement with Dave Batista had been strictly platonic, friendship…maybe innocent flirting…even casual dating would be safer than this. But this morning was not safe…nothing about the whole encounter was safe anymore. His lips and hands and fingers had coaxed her over a line neither he nor she had any business crossing. '_But that's not the only problem'_, she thought as she shampooed her hair and leaned her face under the spray. The biggest dilemma…the one that hung burdensome and without resolution, was that she knew she couldn't walk away…she had no desire to be anywhere but here. It was unstable, unsure…no guarantee, but it was everything she'd ever wanted and never had.

She soaped up her body and determined to distance herself from Dave Batista…a little at first…she had to protect her past and he was reeling her in little by little like a fish on a hook. She had to slow things down, but she wasn't sure she could, not after the night they'd had. Nancy closed her eyes, biting her lip she ran the soap over her breasts and smiled, remembering how he'd touched and kissed them…yes…this was a problem, especially since she found her body beginning to react again at the mere thought of him. She was physically and mentally weak under his influence…and she was quite sure that she was going to fold if he touched her again.

He was drawn in by the sound of the water, the steam swirling up from the archway that led into the bathroom…not to mention the temptation of something more than just a shower. Dave heard her sigh, and stepping closer to the open stone shower, he found her…he wouldn't join her. He would just watch…at least that's what he told himself. But bloody hell, he was fighting a losing battle. The sight of her practically on tiptoes, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair caused him to harden painfully. He loved watching her, loved the way his mind played out a hundred different scenarios when he did. But right now, he was loving the way she massaged the soap over her skin and he could not have held himself back not even with a team of plow oxen strapped to his back. Dave stepped into the shower behind her and immediately took over the enjoyable task of washing her body. He laughed when she jumped in surprise…smiled when she leaned back against him as his hands stroked over her body…lost control when he touched her core with a curious hand and found her already throbbing and ready for him.

If last night had been tender and unhurried, this morning was nothing of the sort. In a swift second he had raised her up, wrapping her legs around his hips and seated her on the rigid length of himself. With abandon, he pressed her lower back against the stone wall, ignoring her cry of pain when the welt from her contact with the ropes in her match scraped cruelly against the wall. Dave's hands were gripping the ledge above her and his thrusts were intentionally harder and more forceful than they had been before. He'd been a gentleman last night and that was fine for their first time and for sometime after, but the beast was goading him again, baiting him, demanding that he be fair, that he give his devious nature equal playing time. He dragged his lips over her wet throat and felt a soft vibration as she let out a moan…it pushed him over the edge. He drove himself into her, twined his free hand into her wet curls, yanking her head back so he could rake his teeth across the tender flesh of her neck. He was rewarded with a whimper of surprise and then a soft moan, followed by a flurry of breathless requests for him not to cease.

Nancy's hands were in his hair, on his shoulders pulling him and yet pushing him away as the point of release began to build in her. Her nails scraped a path down his back and she heard him groan before his lips met hers with blind intensity. His hard thrusts were feral, animalistic and furious, shaking her entire body, bringing her to a fevered pitch. She clung dependently to his powerful shoulders as the spiraling force in her center finally shattered, radiating outward, filling her whole body with wave after wave of heated satiation.

He was not far behind her, hearing her cries echo off of the stone walls, feeling her pulsate around his cock. His knuckles, white from his grip on the ledge, his teeth clenched, he plunged into her again and then burst, filling her. He breathed raggedly against her drenched throat, his lips a hairsbreadth from the diamond, trying to regain his strength and yet still holding her there against the stone wall. Her arms were draped around the thick muscles of his neck as she leaned her cheek against the top of his head. Water from the shower spout still splashed them as they stood there, and Nancy laughed softly against him. "Ouch." She whispered when he raised his head to look at her. "My back." She smiled…a pained glimmer in her eyes as she framed his face with her hands, grazing the sides of his jaw with her thumbs. Everything that Nancy had sworn just minutes ago about distancing herself went straight down that shower drain…nothing was ever going to be way it had been before him.

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Dave Batista hung up the cell phone after rearranging his flight plan, making sure to be placed on standby for the same flight as Nancy. He smiled…she wouldn't know until the last second…and it gave him a few more hours to do whatever he wanted before having to fly out. It was devious, but he wasn't quite ready to let her leave…if he had his choice he'd lock the door and have food delivered through the mail slot for the next week just to keep her here. He laid the cell phone back into his bag alongside his flight itinerary, glancing over to the coffee table and smiling when he saw the half empty wine glasses, from last night.

A knock on the cabana door caught his attention and he adjusted the towel around his waist, wondering who it might be…Nancy had barely gotten out of the shower, but it was conceivable that she could have had the time to order room service, while he'd been on the phone with the airline. Crossing the room, he palmed his wallet, so that he could give a tip after the food cart was delivered. He grinned and shook his head, knowing that with her huge appetite, room service would never fit on just a tray. He turned the handle and pulled the door open, met with the fragrance of flowers, a slightly cool breeze and…Maria Kanelis.

Dave arched an eyebrow and used one hand to hold the towel in place around his waist. "Maria." It was a statement devoid of a note of surprise, a mere acknowledgement.

"Hi…can I come in?" Maria asked, regarding him through a fringe of dark lashes, after having taken a longer than necessary appraisal of his less than dressed physique.

Dave sighed and scratched his head. "You know…uh, now is not a really good time." He didn't know the exact basis for her untimely visit, but the whole scenario had 'Christy Hemme' written all over it.

"Are you busy?" Maria asked shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Because there's sort of a little problem."

He frowned. "Maria, I'm not sure that it's a problem I can help you with."

"Well, I know that you've been spending a lot of time with the girl from wardrobe, and…" She began, transparent as a sheet of glass, and about as intelligent as one. "None of the Divas know where she is. We can't find her and we're concerned because we have some clothes for her to fix. Have you seen her?"

It was the dumbest excuse he'd ever heard…He knew as soon as she opened her mouth that Christy had sent her. "I…really think, that she does that sort of thing when she's on company time…I'm sure she's around somewhere and that she's just fine." He had half a mind to spite Christy by telling Maria that Nancy was here. He could imagine the look of horror on Maria's face if he told her how he'd spent the last ten hours in a heated rendezvous with Christy's rival.

Maria swept her gaze across the living area and a small perceptive smile lit upon her features, her eyes locked on the pair of taupe heels lying askew on the floor, below the table where a jade, beaded handbag sat. She lifted her gaze upward to Dave's face with an arch of a brow and he knew that he didn't have to tell her anything…she already knew.

"Well, if you see her…will you tell her that we're looking for her?" Maria asked and even with her brainless, clueless personality, he could detect the faint sarcasm that laced her request.

He nodded, gave her a simple "Yeah." and then closed the door as she turned to walk away. The encounter left him wondering why everyone was so obscure in their attempts to get information out of him…could they not just come out and ask? Not that he would have told them by any means…his respect for Nancy dictated that he would not kiss and tell, but at the very least…he was getting tired of the games. Dave tossed his wallet on the table beside her purse, and smiled…he was glad Maria had seen it, now maybe the mystery would be over and Christy would see fit to leave him alone.

Once in the doorway of the master bedroom, he saw Nancy lying on her stomach under the sheets, propped up on her elbows. She was talking on the cell phone to what he assumed was someone's voicemail. He crept up on the bed behind her a sinful smile on his face the moment he felt her beneath him. He reached around her gently removed the phone from her hand, snapping it shut and placing it on the night table. She looked over her shoulder with a confused smile. "I was calling Max…I need to go get some clothes…he's not there." Dave couldn't resist the impulse to attack her neck and as he did so he playfully told her. "There are no phone calls." He nipped at her ear, "And no clothes…" He slid his hands around the front of her body to cup a bare breast. "Not until I say so."

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Christy held the stack of papers in her hand, a look of pitiable unease twisting her beautiful features. Her eyes again scanned over the text on the page and she lifted her saddened gaze, not even sure exactly what it was she had read. She knew what it appeared to be, she knew that it was atrocious at the very least and she quickly realized that there was no way on earth she could do what was being asked of her. "This…is…really bad." Her eyes held a glimmer of tears. "I can't do this to someone…not even _her_." Her head snapped up instantly with the forceful assistance of Triple H's hand under her chin.

"You can…and you _will_." He informed her, a sliver of intimidation winding its way through his words. "You know what you just read."

"How can I do this?" Christy asked, tearfully.

"Maybe I was wrong about your true feelings for Dave…maybe you don't want to be the one he turns to…maybe Candice is the woman I should be talking to." He hadn't expected her sudden attack of conscience.

"I do _love_ him." She whispered, swiping a tear off of her cheek. "This just isn't right…you can't do this to somebody…" She slapped the stack of papers down on the table in front of her.

It was time for him to pull out the big guns. He knew that he would never convince Christy to go through with his plan unless he asserted himself and put fear and anger in the place of her doubt. "You didn't get a chance to speak to Maria this morning did you?" He leveled the first verbal gun at her.

"You _know_ I didn't." Christy said with an air of irritancy, referring to the fact that she had been here in the secluded fast food restaurant with him for the past hour hashing out his plan and reading over the documents he'd brought as a result of his extensive background search on Nancy.

"Well then maybe I'll tell you about the phone call I received a few minutes ago." Triple H was prepared to incinerate her feelings, knowing that it would give root to wrath and set her firmly back on track again. "I sent Maria on a little expedition this morning…" He caught Christy's look of horror. "Don't worry, she has no idea we're in cahoots." He continued, stuffing the paperwork back into the folder as he spoke. "The objective of her search was to find Nancy…and so she went to her cabana…she found no one." He announced with finality. "She also went to the restaurant in the main lobby…no one." He watched as Christy's eyes averted. "Maria checked the pool, the gift shop…the gym…and again Nancy was _nowhere_ to be found."

"Okay so maybe she went to the mall or out to one of the native markets to shop…what are you getting at?" Christy knew she wasn't going to like his answer, but a small prayer of hope formed in her heart…she couldn't bear the thought of what she suspected he was about to tell her.

"Well, I'm glad you asked." He shifted in the uncomfortable booth. "Maria made a trek over to Dave's cabana…" He saw the slight flare of her nostrils as her eyes locked on the straw she was currently mutilating with her fingernail. "Dave answered the door and they exchanged an innocent inquiry about her whereabouts…of course he agreed that if he saw Nancy he would tell her that Maria was looking for her."

"So? That tells me nothing." Christy huffed, pinching the straw furiously.

He laughed when she dodged the verbal bullet. "Before she left, she had a chance to notice a pair of heels and a jade handbag in his entryway."

She blanched visibly. "It could have been anyone's; it doesn't mean it was hers." Christy was in denial.

"Well unless he's taken with the thought of becoming a transvestite, then I would have to say that those items undoubtedly belong to a woman…and I think you and I both know that they belong to one woman in particular." He seethed, irritated with her ability to deny the obvious. "Maria remembers that Jade handbag as being the one Nancy carried…she remarked to me that she had noticed it in the bathroom the other night because she liked it." He smiled when her eyes clouded over with anger. "He also answered the door in a towel."

"I can't believe this." Christy murmured on the brink of tears.

"We both know Dave, and it's pretty safe to say that if she was in that cabana with him _all_ night…they probably weren't just playing Scrabble." He remarked, noticing her hurt expression. "And knowing Dave as well as I know _him_…whatever happened in there probably happened more than once." She looked as if she'd been hit by a flurry of bullets.

"You're the one who told me to let this happen!" She hissed, wiping another tear away. "And now you're taunting me with it."

"Christy…now you see that she _can_ be used…he feels something for her." He inserted.

"It's just sex." Christy spat.

"That's funny, because I seem to remember hearing from my sources that he's taken her to his favorite diner, to the gym for a very personal training session, he swept her away from the arena for drinks when she was supposed to wrestle…" He ticked the items off on his meaty fingers. "Oh and she even had breakfast with his daughters, which, I don't have to tell you is a _huge_ thing and frankly further than _you_ ever got with him…I think he saved her ass from some hoodlums at the pool if my sources are right. _Oh_, and let's not forget the fact that Chris was gifted with a nice little gash on his forehead that required stitches, from a remarkably badly aimed chair shot, one that he sustained as a result of Dave interfering in a match without the knowledge or consent of his superiors!"

Christy was crying now, softly but angrily.

"I plan on achieving my goal with or without you, Christy. "Triple H said caustically. "Dave's gonna need a shoulder to cry on after he drops her like a hot rock…because there are feelings there…and you know it. Now it's up to you whose shoulder he chooses. I don't have to tell you how many pretty ladies would be willing to benefit from his grief and from his imminent time off from the WWE."

"Time off?" She blew her nose in a napkin.

"Good God, Christy…Do I really have to include a blow by blow narrative every single time we have this discussion?" He asked incredulously. "If Dave Batista is gone from the WWE…then obviously they have to have a marketable champion on the card…in his place, now I'm not fool enough to believe that anyone on the board of Directors would oust him from his current position, not with the amount of gross he's pulling in for the company."

Christy didn't like what she was about to hear.

"If he's injured, then the title changes hands…_I_ become the marketable champion. My wife would be forced to let me back in the ring." He announced.

"But you said that you could hurt him by proxy…you never said anything about putting him out of commission…I could never agree to that." The intensity of his plan weighed on her heavily, and the sheer realization that she was in over her head had her reeling.

"This is not all about _you_ and _your_ goal, Christy." He snapped. "I brought you in on this because we both had something to gain and because I thought we could both get what we wanted by working together…and you don't have any other choice but to do exactly as we planned...Don't play hero with this, please…I have no conscience when my career is on the line and I will, without a moments hesitation, bring your little dream world crashing down around your shoulders if you _fuck_ with me!" His low voice and clenched teeth gave her fearful pause. "Now if we can bring this entire plan to fruition, I'll be back in that ring with gold on my shoulder, despite how my wife feels."

"He has a contract doesn't he, that gives him a set amount of time that he's required to be champion…I mean isn't he paid to carry that belt for a certain amount of time?" Christy asked grasping at straws.

"If he's injured he can't carry the belt, he has to relinquish it." He smiled.

"Trish didn't give hers up when she went out with her injury." Christy pointed out sniffling.

"The men's title is always going to be more important than the women's title and it also has to do with the extent of the injury and the amount of time he'll be out of the game." He expounded. "He'll be forced to go home and lick his wounds, hopefully you'll be helping him…he will have lost someone he obviously has a fondness for, due to her shady past, but that's no big deal because he'll finally realize that you were there for him all along." He reached out to pat her arm in a feigned gesture of concern. "Isn't that what you wanted? Don't you see how important it is to see this through to completion?"

"He'll never be purposely injured in the ring…no one would hurt him because they all respect him…and you _yourself_ said you couldn't get another match with him…so unless you're planning some heinous attack outside of the ring…I don't know how you plan on accomplishing your goal." Christy pointed out, her fears being replaced by bittersweet reassurance.

"Well I'm working on that as we speak…I can get a match…and I'm refining the details before I pitch it to Bischoff…but we need to fan the flames in regards to the incident with Chris." He said. "We can't let that whole rivalry cool off…we may even need to put a bug in the ear of WWE Creative so that we can get something up off the ground…I'm talking with some of the management on my own suggesting that we have Nancy trained to wrestle...I'll let you in on all that later if it pans out."

Christy looked as if she'd been slapped. "This is ridiculous, it'll never work."

"It will…and I'm willing to bet _your_ career on it." He said threateningly. "Now I have to insist that you go on about things as if they are completely normal…and please, for the love of God, try to have fewer psychotic stalking episodes…leave _her_ alone and leave _him_ alone. I have reliable sources in place and they tell me _everything_…you'll only go and spoil things if you keep trying to confront her." He pointed his finger in her face. "I mean it."

Christy watched as he got up to leave, terrified that what she was about to do would ruin someone's life and career. Once this information got out, Nancy would never work anywhere but in a dress shop again…if she could even get hired there. In her blind anger, Christy had truly believed that ruining Nancy had been what she wanted, but now after having seen the extent of her past…she wasn't sure. Christy had always been a bit shrewd in her attempts to gain status, but this went way beyond that, this was unconscionable…it was cruel exploitation at best, and she was too far in to even protest. Her only hope was that once Dave was forced to recover, that he would be ready to have someone he could trust and that she could reaffirm that she was indeed that person. But then there was also the knowledge that revealing Nancy's secret, ruining her life and Dave's happiness, would thrust her into the position of having to carry around the ugly secret of her culpability in his injury as well as his loss of someone he was beginning to care about. If he let her back in then she could never allow him to discover how far she had been willing to go just to get him back…it would be something _she_ would have to hide for the rest of her natural life.

Christy loved Dave, wanted him more than anything…and that alone was enough of a reason to follow through with a design that could destroy someone else. Triple H had taken the folder with the documents along with him and Christy was glad…she didn't want to look at them again…they were horrible…and he had been right when he'd said that following through with this plan would help her achieve her goal of becoming Dave's priority, and in essence she was saving him and his children from harm. He'd been so sure that this was a favor to Dave even if it did cause him undo pain…he would be better off in the long haul. Christy could only hope that was true.


	22. Chapter 21

Uncommon Sense Chapter 21  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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My candle burns at both ends;  
It will not last the night;  
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--  
It gives a lovely light!

-_Edna St. Vincent Millay, "First Fig" (1920)_

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Max couldn't deny that Vicki was beautiful, nor could he deny that she was talented, he was having fun accompanying her to all sorts of places…_and_ paying for all sorts of things. She was such a layered person, however…such an angst driven, wounded soul…that Max was finding it terribly difficult to even get past the many strata of her superficiality. Getting close to Vicki had proved a little like trying to rescue a porcupine from a cluster of cacti…he was going to get himself jabbed no matter which way he approached.

It had been _her_ idea to spend the night together…_her_ idea to make love, but before hand, she'd suggested they have a drink to loosen up and had downed several shots of whiskey as if they were nothing more than water. Vicki had then dragged him back to the bedroom, torn his clothing off and subjected him to the most rigorous tutoring session he'd ever been forced to endure. She'd been forceful and well, rude! "Not there…here." "Too fast…too slow" "You're smothering me." Were just some of the things she'd barked out at him while they'd been in bed. The whole experience had been like 6th Grade Chemistry class with Mrs. Kelvin, yelling at him for mixing the wrong chemicals, telling him that is was a good thing his family was wealthy because he'd likely never graduate and go to college.

Now mind you, Max had enjoyed every second of the sex, because like most men, he could block out a myriad of useless distractions that threatened to prevent him from getting his rocks off, but he'd wanted her to enjoy it too. And she hadn't….she'd said that she had…but he knew better. He'd felt out of place, when they'd finished…he was an obese naked lard, next to a slender, feminine, make-up artist. And even though she'd tried to cuddle and tell him that she'd enjoyed it and all she needed was a little rest and she'd be ready for more, he knew that she had only done it out of obligation.

He'd been so eager and excited to finally have a pretty lady on his arm, that he'd spent a small fortune on Vicki since they'd become a pair. It didn't help that she had the taste of Paris Hilton…her budget would only allow her to go so far. Max had a sizeable trust fund that he could always fall back on and parents who had always loved him for who he was, looking beyond his inability to pin himself down to one thing…they'd never berated him for his flights of fancy or his tendency to do something on a whim, they'd just supported him because he was a good kid. He'd been giving and happy to supplement Vicki's lack of funds on their recent shopping expeditions, and last night had been just a little glimpse into what Vicki was all about, but like the gentleman he was, he knew he'd give her a second chance, because in his mind, she was probably going to be the best he could ever get.

Now at least he could be indisputably jubilant, as he listened again to the voice mail message from Nancy that had been cut off prematurely. He grinned devilishly, knowing that apparently she had finally borne witness to a 'Big Greek Sausage'. He scribbled and tucked the note beneath the handle of one of her suitcases and headed for the door of his cabana so he could deliver her luggage to her. She'd only asked him for a change of clothing, but he hoped that by leaving all of her belongings on the porch of Dave Batista's cabana, he could convince her that she was better off there.

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She'd suggested that they eat their brunch in the living area, not only so she could satisfy a rumbling tummy, but also with the intent of luring him out of the bedroom so that she might actually have a chance to get a hold of Max for the sake of getting some spare clothing…something which Dave was apparently very opposed to. She asked to borrow one of his shirts, since he had taken her clothing from last night hostage. He had reluctantly agreed, taunting her, telling her that since she had nothing to wear, she couldn't leave and was at his mercy. Nancy had gone on a search of her clothing, sparking a game of 'Hot and Cold', with Dave leading her on a verbal wild goose chase, which finally ended with her being the possessor of only a bra and him having them both trapped in the dark walk-in closet, where they remained for more than a half hour.

Now they sat on the floor, him wearing only a pair of shorts, exposing a massive muscular chest, and her in his shirt, eating brunch from a room-service cart. This was comfortable and right…Nancy thought. She wasn't humiliated or embarrassed, because he would never have allowed it…it was just who he was. He had made sure that she knew he'd wanted her…he left no doubt in her mind. But it was more than just comfortable lovemaking and the absence of awkward silences, it was his zest for her that confused her and delighted her…the fact that he was interested in her physically was great and yet it did not overshadow the fact that he was engaging her mentally and…emotionally? He hadn't given her time to reflect on everything that had happened and give seed to possible regret because he continued to connect with her on every level making sure that she stayed busy, mentally and physically…it was a bit scary.

He was playful and serious, circuitous and yet direct…it left Nancy wondering if he might be wanting something lasting and yet at the same time that tiny insolent voice inside of her reminded her to hold on fiercely to her guard…because nothing in _her_ life had ever been lasting. He was trying to share a bite of his food with her and failing miserably, dropping the bite on _his_ shirt…the one _she_ was wearing, and he was laughing. It reminded her how good it felt to be here even it wasn't going to be forever.

Dave laughed and used his napkin to sweep the bite off of her lap and into his hand, placing it in the entrée lid.

"Let me try that again." He grinned, watching her in front of him on the floor in his shirt…the one she'd fixed the night he'd apologized to her…the night he'd given her a ride from the arena…the shirt he hadn't had the heart to replace as she'd suggested he should. He had always liked that shirt, but seeing it on her, he found he liked it even better now.

Dave listened as she went into detail about some of the different projects she was working on and how she'd been approached by Stephanie McMahon about starting a new line and he loved her excitement…she included him in her conversation instead of chattering his ear off, and when she had the temerity to ask him what he thought she should do about a particular situation, should she invest her knowledge and her savings in a particular area, he was almost blown away…she valued his opinion, even in something he knew very little about.

He liked the way this felt…liked having someone desirable and intelligent to share time with and he wasn't looking forward to it ending. Dave had half considered the possibility that she might agree to stay in his hotel room at the Albuquerque show, but he knew that her first loyalty was to Max and that she would likely say no if he asked. And so Dave had been shrewdly determined to enjoy what little private time they were having, because it might be a while before they could shut the world out and indulge like this again.

A knock on the door, in the middle of another one of his funny stories about traveling with Rob Van Dam, caught their attention. Nancy bit her lip and motioned that she was going to hide around the corner in the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was to have someone know that she was in here…it would definitely ignite a round of controversy and rumors that she knew she wasn't ready to handle.

Dave half expected it to be Maria again, maybe even Christy, coming to tear his cabana apart to find out if Nancy was here. He held his foot behind the door as he opened it just in case it was one of the two prepared to barge in past him. The only thing that caught his eye was a pair of suitcases, a make-up bag and a sheet of paper with Nancy's name on it, tucked under the handle, flapping in the breeze. A quick look outside to the left and right revealed no one, but he knew that it must have been Max responding to Nancy's voicemail request for clothing…and even though a tiny shred of hope flared up in him at the fantasy of Max kicking her out forcing her to stay with him…damn him for bringing the clothes, because now that meant that she would want to get dressed. Well maybe at least he could help her with that and give himself another excuse to put his hands on her, before she would be temporarily off limits again.

"You can come out now…it's safe." He jested, rolling her luggage into the entryway, as she came around the corner.

"My _God_, all I asked for was a pair of shorts and a t-shirt." Her eyes widened when she saw her luggage, along with the note, which she was sure might contain some lewd reference to something 'big' and 'Greek'. She hurried over to retrieve the note just as Dave was pulling it from beneath the handle. She pulled it out of his hands and held it away from him. "You can't read this." She ordered holding it behind her back and pointing her finger at him as if to tell him to step back.

His eyebrow arched, as a curious smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Why not? Because it has your name on it?"

"Because Max is a fool and I have to make sure that there's nothing embarrassing in it first." Nancy admitted, waiting for him to retreat.

"Okay." He agreed with a mildly inquisitive look on his face as he pretended to turn and walk back to his meal.

She had no sooner unfolded the letter and begun to read, when it was snatched out of her hand by Dave.

"Oh God, please don't read it..." Nancy begged, trying to retrieve the note from him, but his height and reach made it impossible. "…I swear, I just know he's put something really embarrassing in it…let me just read it first and then…"

"Nope…" He teased, using his free hand to keep her at bay while a playful smile curved his lips.

Nancy flopped down onto her back on the fluffy sofa, pulling one of the sofa pillows over her face to cover her absolute mortification as he began to read the note out loud.

"Nancy…" Dave began in his most professional and articulate voice. "Congratulations on finally getting your very own 'Big…Greek Sausage?'" He laughed and turned to see her burying her face once again in the pillow as she groaned her humiliation. "I know you asked for one set of clothes, but our flight leaves in two hours and so I packed you up completely so you wouldn't be cutting it so close…your flight itinerary is in the outside pouch of your make-up case." He read on. "Please call me if you decide that you won't be staying in a room with me…when you get to Albuquerque…and know that I will always make sure I get a double, just in case. And by the way, you're almost out of shaving cream. Love Max." He smiled and let out a soft laugh, when he turned to see her still holding her face under the pillow.

She felt the cushions of the sofa sink down as he straddled her and softly pulled the pillow down away from her face. "Don't be ashamed that he knows…I'm not." He said, his face looming above hers, a slightly rakish smile on his lips.

The note was clutched in his hand and he braced himself above her. "I have to be honest…" He spoke softly, kissing her forehead. "I was going to ask if you would stay…with me…when we got to New Mexico." His heart was thumping with the admission of it. "I wasn't sure how to go about asking you…so maybe I should thank Max for putting you on the spot." He pushed aside a shiny curl. "Would you? I mean I understand if you're afraid that it might put you in the position of having to deflect some unwanted questions from Divas, but I'm enjoying this…us…you." He was stumbling over his words and he suddenly felt like he was asking her for a date to the prom. There…he'd said it…he'd admitted he wanted her to be there with him…even if it hadn't come out fluidly, it was a start.

Nancy looked at him for a long moment, searching his eyes for a sign of deceit, evidence of an ulterior motive and finding none. The proud angle of his jaw, the dark intensity of his eyes and the nervous admission from his lips…she couldn't have resisted if she'd wanted. But then there was the voice inside her, again telling her that she was setting herself up for a fall, that she couldn't give herself to him and maintain her independence…she couldn't preserve the person she'd made herself if she let things get serious. Someday he would want to know all of things that she didn't want to tell him…and then it would be over. But despite the constant prattling of her conscience, Nancy so loved the way she felt when she was in his presence that she found it hard to imagine _not_ being with him. Dave Batista made her feel secure and worthy, beautiful and passionate. It wasn't just the physical aspect, and Lord knows _that_ rated high on the list of pros, it was the emotional aspect and the way he looked at her, as if there was something he wanted to tell her but could not.

"I will if you want me to." Nancy answered, reaching out to touch the line of whiskers on his chin with the tip of her finger.

"I wanna hear _you_ say you want to." He explained, a deep rumbling in his voice, though he spoke low. "You don't have to do it just because it's what I want."

She nodded, "I know." And she believed him. "I want to…I'll stay." Her voice was soft and nervous, but her eyes held no trace of uncertainty.

"Good." He said brushing his lips over hers for a mere second, and as badly as he wanted to let the note fall to the floor and gratify his now insatiable hunger for her, he knew that if they didn't finish their food and get moving, they would miss their flight altogether. "You'd better go call Max and let him know." He rose up and helped her to her feet.

"Okay, Warden…since you're going to let me have my one phone call…does this mean you'll let me have my clothes too?" She asked, a naughty glimmer in her eye.

His own dark eyes sparkled with the challenge. "Don't push your luck…we still have at least an hour before we have to leave."

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"I think you're of the opinion that you have me over a barrel…in a manner of speaking." Eric Bischoff's jaw was clenched as he spat the words out, despite his attempt at gentlemanly composure. "I don't take kindly to threats."

"Nobody has _anybody_ over a barrel." Triple H said innocently, eyebrows raised, his cocky grin surrounded by a handlebar moustache. "All I'm doing is suggesting a match for the next pay-per-view…and _strongly_ encouraging you to follow through with it…of course reminding you that it's in the best interests of your career and marriage to do so."

Eric blanched, and tossed his ball point pen down on the leather ink blotter that covered his desk. "I really find it interesting if not coincidental that this happens to be the second time in a month that I have had wrestlers in my office suggesting that I authorize matches…involving the same woman." He scowled fiercely. "What in the _hell_ is it about her that is so damned unforgivable that you people seem to think that I should supersede the authority and instruction of WWE Creative just to put her ass in the ring?"

"You never let me explain." Triple H laughed at the obvious hopelessness in Eric's tone. "Once I clarify then you'll see it's not really about her, it's about me…and _you_…and what might happen if you _don't_ choose to supersede the authority of the creative department." He laughed and ran his thumb and forefinger over his moustache. "What is it that they do now when you're found guilty of _'insider trading'_?" He watched as Eric ducked his eyes. "If I'm not mistaken, your wife actually _knows_ Martha Stewart, right? You could always ask her…of course I doubt that her little vacation to a 'Federal Bed & Breakfast' would compare to what you might experience in the farm they'd send you to."

Eric blew. "I don't think you have the slightest clue of how much I despise you…There isn't a language anywhere in the civilized world or beyond that has words to describe it!" He slammed his hand on the desk and the motionless ink pen jumped. "Make your suggestion and then get the fuck out and leave me be!"

It was so amusing to Triple H, the outburst, that he tilted his head back and gave reign to a deep roll of raucous laughter. "I guess we're in tandem, you and me." He sighed as his laughter died down. "What I am suggesting is a championship match."

"Well if she were the champion then I'd say you have a chance…but since she isn't," Eric said an angry glare still marring his face. "And since Dave's contract reads like a Shakespeare play with a disclaimer…specifically barring you from a rematch the entire time he's obligated to carry the belt…then I'd say you're shit out of luck!" Eric was satisfied even though the vein in his forehead was pulsing with dangerous force. "Not to mention the fact that your wife…my boss…_your_ boss…has been less than willing to allow you back into the ring."

"The specifics of my nuptials and the details surrounding them are none of your business." Triple H seethed, the gentlemanly façade beginning to crumble. "And yes, Dave's contract states that he is required to carry that belt for 'X' amount of time…and yes, it states that I am not eligible for a rematch, but like the master of adaptation I am…I found a way to circumvent the system…if you will…a loophole, just in case you didn't get that the first time I said it."

One eyebrow arched sharply and the scowl fell from Eric's face only to be replaced by a look of disgust. "Well, no one ever said honesty was your strong suit." Eric was suddenly struck with the idea that he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. "What exactly are you pitching?"

"I want back in the ring…but I can't achieve that by direct means…Stephanie would never allow it." He admitted something he had not wanted to. "I cannot challenge Dave Batista for the title directly either…his contract won't allow _that_." He leaned forward until the two men's gazes locked. "I have to achieve both goals in one fell swoop, and without putting my thumb in either of them, does that make sense?"

"Well, then it looks like we're both over a barrel, because unless you're magic…I don't see how you can accomplish either one of those things without leaving your distinct fingerprint all over the place." Eric smiled inwardly, secretly happy that he was not the only one faced with a very difficult situation.

"Well, that's where Nancy Adams comes in…" Triple H held up his finger to silence a protest. "Proxy…my friend…Two goals in one fell swoop and I never even have to get my hands dirty."


	23. Chapter 22

Uncommon Sense Chapter 22  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"The first rule in keeping secrets is _nothing on paper_."

-_Thomas Powers_

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Christy shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench in the women's locker room, an exhausted groan escaping her lips. She hadn't had such a diminutive amount of sleep in a long time. Christy had struggled with trying to cover up the bags under her eyes and had used her share of unscented muscle rubs just trying to relieve the affects of the stress on her body. The pulsating muscle ache in her lower back was a constant droning reminder of the fact that she was carrying around a burden that she had no business towing.

How had she gotten herself into such a mess? Sheer jealousy possibly, but even _that_ was too impossible to contemplate because of her pride. And now Triple H had somehow exhumed more dirt on Christy herself…it would just be a matter of time until her own skeletons would be dragged out of the closet, if she didn't play along. True, in her conceit, she could see that o scandalous deed she'd ever concealed could compare to the secret that Nancy was toting, even so Christy couldn't help but feel a stab of pity, as she contemplated what she was soon prepared to do at Triple H's behest.

She had begun to wonder if in fact Dave would be receptive to resuming a relationship with her after Nancy was finally out of the picture. She wasn't sure that he would feel like being a part of anyone's life again once he found out the truth and cast Nancy aside. Was it a grave possibility that he would be too angry, to hurt to want to anything more than wallow in his depression while he nursed his impending injury?

Christy wasn't stupid enough to believe that Dave and Nancy were merely friends anymore…it was obvious that Triple H's sources were reliable and she was now fully, agonizingly aware that the two had been holed up in his cabana the last full night and most of the day before their flight. Christy had also been dismayed to see that Dave Batista had not been on the same flight with the rest of the wrestlers. Another quest for info on Triple H's part had turned up the disturbing detail that Dave had flown standby…coach, even! On the very same flight with Nancy...She knew now, for sure that something serious was developing between the two…and rather quickly. It didn't bode well for a future hope of a romance with him, but Christy wasn't giving up yet.

She adjusted the waist band of her mini-skirt and smoothed the front of her shirt down. A turn from side to side revealed pre-match perfection and so, with a little pout of her lips, a tiny ladylike swipe of her hair over her shoulders, she headed out to the ring to meet up with Stacy Keibler for a tag match.

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The door creaked slightly as Nancy used her hip to push it open, a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. She smiled when Max lifted his eyes and rewarded her with a knowing smirk. He appeared tired, bags under his eyes, a wrinkled shirt over even more wrinkled slacks. Max's dishwater blonde hair had taken on a free standing life of its own, much aided by his habit of running his sweaty palms through it. Nancy had known him well enough to know that it was a habit that only reared its head when he was frustrated. And even though Max grinned at her as if he knew every detail of her time in a certain someone's cabana, she knew he either wasn't happy or wasn't feeling well.

"Well…you're still alive…and still walking." Max appraised her smile and the way she averted her eyes. "So that's a good sign." He suspected that the red flush spreading across her face and chest was as much from her excitement as it was from her embarrassment.

"Oh, and thank you for kicking me out." She said, palming the hot coffee cup gently into his beefy hand. "Just cream." Nancy nodded at the cup.

"Well you always were hard to room with." Max joked. "I would have said 'Hello' to the two of you on the flight, but I was on rumor patrol with some of the staffers, who saw you two board. Imagine…Mr. Heavyweight Champion flying coach…with normal people." Max laughed softly. "He must really be something else…to cancel a first class ticket."

"He is." Nancy agreed as she hugged Max's shoulders, reminded of how special she'd felt when she thought about how Dave could have put them in a completely separate hotel from the rest of the WWE Family to avoid a rash of awkward questions. Instead he simply paid for a room in the Marriot where everyone else had booked and promptly marched her upstairs undaunted by stares or whispers from of the other wrestlers. "You don't seem yourself." She pulled away, eyebrows pleating as she assessed Max more closely.

"Sleep deprivation." Max's weary eyes glittered devilishly. "Do you know how hard it is to try to see what your best friend is doing in a cabana on the hill…through binoculars, perched for hours on the window sill? I'll have a mark on my ass for days." Max poked her in the arm. "Besides the fact that I stayed up half the night trying to imagine details that I know you won't give me, because you're a lady."

"You're a shit, Max." Nancy poked him back, and then took a sip of her own coffee.

"You're not ever coming back to me are you?" Max asked sadly and though Nancy knew he'd meant it as a jest, she suspected that he was a tad depressed.

"Poor baby…of course I will…" Nancy began. "I'll just tell Dave that tonight's the last night we can…"

"The hell you _will_!" Max cut her off. "I never wanna have to fight you for the best bed again…let him deal with your antics…I've been trying for _months_ to get rid of you." He leaned his head on her shoulder accepting another hug from her.

The pair was interrupted by the opening of the door and the appearance of Vicki, who was dressed in tight black leather pants, paired with a soft, flowing white blouse under a pink jacket. It was an ensemble that Nancy would have termed an eighties catwalk disaster, straight from the closet of 'The Artist Formerly Known as Prince', but Nancy would never have voiced her thoughts to the make-up artist.

"Max?" Vicki said delicately, offering a small wave to Nancy. "Could I talk to you…I need help for just a second with something."

Nancy returned the small wave and could see from the look on Max's face that he was smitten…she wondered if his lack of sleep had anything to do with Vicki.

"Oh yeah, sure." Max answered. "Nancy, do you mind?"

"Nope." Nancy suppressed a grin. "Take your time."

The two walked away, arm in arm and Nancy sighed with satisfaction. Maybe things were finally falling into place for Max. It gave her a precious sliver of hope that even _she_ might be able to keep some shred of what she was developing with Dave, as long as he never knew who she really was.

Shaking off the invasive thoughts, Nancy sipped her coffee and then set herself to the task of measuring the black fabric on the table so she could make Lita/Amy Dumas a new blouse. She heard the screech of the heavy door again behind her and she knew it wasn't Dave, because he always seemed to sneak up on her without her knowing. Without bothering to look, she tossed a greeting over her shoulder. "Hi, give me just one second."

The casual greeting was caught by none other than Triple H himself. "Sure." Was his lackluster response, and he was internally pleased when he saw that the seamstress stiffened the moment she recognized his voice. Her bodily reaction was just further proof to him that she had a guilty conscience.

Nancy turned slowly to confirm that it was indeed Triple and she swallowed, deeply as she caught a glimpse of the intimidating man. He was someone who had _never_ come into the wardrobe room, not even once in the entire time since she had been in charge of its operation.

Nancy knew that because of his status, he preferred to have his garments sent out to a professional alteration service. "Um…" She began nervously. "I, uh…You don't have anything in here waiting to be altered or repaired, do you?" She spoke kindly even though she was leery. Nancy was still slightly guilt ridden about having eavesdropped on him twice, and she knew full well because of his comments in the stairwell that he wanted to be rid of Dave and that fact alone put her on the defensive. His being here period, was out of the ordinary and it made her uneasy.

"No." He turned to the door and twisted the lock. "But I do have something important to discuss with you, though."

"You, should probably unlock that door." Nancy said, apprehensively, wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on her skirt trying desperately to feign confidence.

He shook his head, with an air of aloof self-assurance. "No, I don't need to unlock it."

Panic and internal alarms began to sound, but Nancy steeled herself against the oncoming fear, and convinced herself that he wouldn't dare hurt her…not with so many other people roaming the halls on the other side of that door. She tried to induce the belief that his locking of the door was a form of intimidation…nothing more.

"You know, the very first time I met you…after you had been snubbed by Eric Bischoff, I knew that there was something distinctly different about you." Triple H stepped forward, wagging a finger at her as he spoke. "I can see why Dave likes you so much." He remarked in a low voice as he appraised her appearance, noting that she nervously ducked her head to avoid meeting his gaze.

Nancy was no exotic beauty like Candace and she wasn't Playboy model material like Christy Hemme, but he couldn't help but notice that she had delicate features and clear eyes, a symmetrical, classical beauty. She had been blessed with olive skin that she had obviously taken good care of and shiny chestnut curls that lacked the straw-like appearance of so many naturally curly haired women, instead it glimmered in variegated hues ranging from cinnamon to light brunette and a million complementary shades in between. She was shorter than average, but her body was lithe and slender with unbroken curves that reminded him of a dancer. He couldn't refute the fact that she was undeniably appealing even if she was not gorgeous. She would most likely age gracefully and still be attractive in form and face long after the cosmetic laden beauties that graced magazine covers would be seeking cosmetic surgery.

"I…really don't think that this is appropriate…discussion." Nancy stammered, her lips tightening. She pushed the fabric aside so she could walk around the table to avoid his sardonic gaze.

"Why? Because I'm married and you're…fucking Dave Batista." He remarked, straightening his tie as if he'd made no offense.

"Something like that." Nancy's brow furrowed and she jutted her chin out, trying to pick her pride back up. She had never enjoyed that particular verbal expression and she certainly wouldn't have placed her very new physical relations in that sort of tasteless light.

"I wouldn't worry…My wife won't be at the arena for another hour or so, and your…whatever Dave is to you…is engrossed in a very interesting conversation with Eric Bischoff, and then of course after that he has a match." Triple H continued slowly to advance on her and the effect was nauseating rather than stimulating as it was whenever Dave was cornering her.

"Is there something you wanted?" Nancy asked firmly, her eyes narrowing. She exuded bravery, but on the inside she was scared to death…something oddly threatening radiated from the man in front of her and instinctively she put her guard up.

"It's funny you should ask that." He began. "I watched you in the ring the other night during your…_match_, and when I witnessed the way Dave came swooping down to save you, I was reminded of something that I had forgotten a long time ago." He noticed that she shifted uncomfortably as she crossed her delicate arms over her ample chest and he grinned as he glanced toward those breasts covered by a crème colored silk top, surmising that Dave Batista must have had plenty of fun with those. "When I was fifteen, my mother took me to an estate sale." He continued, undistracted.

"I hardly think that has anything to do with me." Nancy interrupted clearing her throat as a lump of apprehension formed.

"On the contrary," Triple H held up a finger. "It has everything to do with you, and its odd how I'd forgotten about the experience…_until_ you." He was less than two paces from her and he stopped. "My mother loved to buy things at a discount…but my father always used to tell her, 'You get what you pay for'. He was always spouting off little appetizers of wisdom. She hated that about him…At any rate, she…found this, uh…crystal vase at that estate sale." He laughed softly, as if the memory might have bordered on fondness and then his expression of arrogance returned as he continued.

"It was in a box among some other _ordinary_ things and it was covered in dirt and dust, with caked-on water spots, but it was intact and my mother just _had_ to have it. She took that fifty-cent crystal vase home and worked on it for hours…all the while, with my father spouting his insight over her shoulder…'You get what you pay for'."

He reached a hand out to push a curl away from Nancy's face and then chuckled softly when she swatted his hand away. "She removed all of the spots and all of the dirt, thinking how lucky she was that she'd bought that vase, and it wasn't until she lifted it up to put it in that lit up curio case, that the light shined on it and she saw this…thin, almost invisible crack that went from rim to base." He shook his head and sighed. "By damned, she was so disappointed, I can still remember the expression on her face…And it certainly didn't help hearing the 'I told you so' from Dad."

He leaned against the table pleased that Nancy appeared too scared or too intrigued, whichever the case, to move away from him. "Of course…she kept the vase, because she couldn't bear to part with it after she'd invested all that time into it, but she never would put it out front and center, she placed it in the back of that display case, behind other things she'd collected…things _unflawed_…and as long as she never moved it forward, put into the light…no one would ever see the crack in it and she would never have to be ashamed." He reached a long finger out and brushed her jaw with it, pulling away before she could swipe at his hand again. "Then I saw you and Dave together and it occurred to me…how very much like that crystal vase you truly are."

Nancy blanched and then with dismay, she noted that he hadn't missed her reaction. She wanted to back away, but her hip was against the tall self-supporting caddy, and he was in front of her and could easily have blocked her path. Standing up to him was the only choice she had.

"Dave might be willing to invest a lot of time and resources into you _now_, but as soon as he sees that huge flaw in you, mark my words…he's going to be ashamed." Triple H held fast his stance when he saw her shift her weight as if she might move to get away from him. "And I know much better than you, what kind of guy Dave is…he might keep you around for a while because he's noble, but he'll keep you hidden on the back burner so nobody knows who you really are…he won't hold you up and be proud that you're his…because you'll ruin his life if he puts you on display…he'll be a laughing stock." He chanced a last scalding insult. "I guess it gives life to the notion that no matter how you clean it up…trash will always be trash."

Nancy felt the bile rise in the back of her throat…maybe Triple H didn't know the truth…maybe he was just guessing…at any rate, she wasn't about to be bullied in her own territory. "Max…is gonna be back any second, so you---"

"No he's not." Triple H chuckled and shook his head, as he cut her off. "Vicki and I have a _great_ arrangement. She seems to know the value of a dollar even if she's a little rough around the edges. I'd wager that he's going to be occupied for a _good_ little while." He watched Nancy's brow crease, amused that she appeared slightly annoyed. "I did think she was gonna quit on me when I paid her to sleep with him, though." He laughed. "And let me tell you, _that_ cost me a pretty penny."

Nancy's face fell and she bit her lip, unable to conceive of how disappointed, how utterly devastated Max would be when he found out. "Oh God, Max…" She said on a whisper, closing her eyes as she let out a trembling sigh. Nancy had felt that the whole thing with Vicki appeared suspicious, but she had held off telling Max her reservations because she hadn't wanted to insinuate that he wasn't worthy of someone beautiful or desirable. She felt tears tease the back of her eyelids and then fury began to bubble up inside of her. "Get out and leave me alone, you pretentious _asshole.._." She ground out in a mere whisper between clenched teeth, and then turned to reach her left hand into the caddy drawer to retrieve her walkie-talkie, intent on calling for Max…or anyone else who would answer. Before she could pull it out, the force of the front of his body slamming forward into hers, caused the drawer to shut painfully on her left wrist. Her body was pinned against the caddy, wrist still trapped in the drawer, as Triple H pressed his entire weight against her.

Triple H held her there, his hips pressing against her back as he spoke aggressively, determined to let her know that he meant business. He brought his lips close enough to her ear that she could hear the dangerously low rumble of his voice. "Let's not be hateful."

Nancy bit back a cry of pain, as her trapped wrist began to throb. "Let go of me and get out!" She was on the verge of screaming until his response brought her to sheer silence.

"I bet that's what you said to Mommy's boyfriend, wasn't it?" He gloried in the instant drain of color from her face and the way her tense body went suddenly slack. He used his free hand to brush the glimmering curls back over her shoulder so that he could whisper in her ear. He saw her chin quiver as she closed her eyes. "But he didn't. Did he?" He felt her body shudder with fear and shame and continued. "You kicked and fought but Eddie was strong…that's right, his name was Eddie Pritchard." He pressed his weight against her when he felt her try to break free. "He was so much stronger than you, wasn't he? But drugs can do that to a man, though."

Nancy nearly choked on a sob and tried in vain to push backward against him so she could free herself, but her wrist was trapped in the drawer and her other arm was folded painfully, and pinned between the front of her own body and the caddy. Besides that, there was no moving someone of his size…and they both knew it. "Please..." She begged in a whisper, as tears streamed unchecked down her face.

"You begged him too, just like you're begging me now…" He continued undaunted and uncaring of the deep wound he was reopening. "He didn't listen to you and he took away your only precious thing…and your mother…he lied and told her _you_ came onto _him_…she beat you and you ran away, but the police just dragged you back…and what about the night you were supposed to go to the prom…he was right there again to ruin it…he tore that dress that Mrs. Masey made for you in secret, because she knew your mother would never buy you one. You were gonna be dressed and gone and then back safe in bed before Mommy got home from work, but Eddie scored some meth that night and came home early…He tore that red dress to shreds and cut your lip…and you ran away again and the police brought you right back…_again_." Triple H persisted in spite of Nancy's tears. "Who's ever going to believe a teenager from the trailer park? That's what Eddie told you, and he was right…but you were ready next time, weren't you? You knew he'd come for you again…and he did…" He spoke rapidly, forcefully.

"Please stop…" She sobbed unable to fight his weight against her back, unable to free her pinned arms in order to cover her ears. She leaned her head against the caddy as his searing cruel breath burnt a hateful path down the tender flesh of her neck. She had given up praying for help…and his malicious reminders had shed light on the fact that _he_ was the one in control, and that no one was going to come to her rescue this time.

"You were ready…and when you felt the weight of his body on your mattress and you smelled the meth on him and the sweat…" He watched as her face contorted at the memory. "And he rose up above you just like before, but you were ready and you sank that knife all the way into his belly." Had he not been pressing himself against her, he was fairly sure that she would have fallen. "And you sat there in the corner of your room and watched him bleed out and die on your dirty carpet, and _then_ you called the police and told them what you had done."

Nancy felt her trapped wrist begin to go numb at the unremitting pressure, but she didn't care. Her carefully constructed wall of poise and control, built out of layer after layer of lies and denial was tumbling down brick by brick. How could he have possibly known?

"They took you away with blood all over your fingers and put you in the Juvenile Detention Center, the one across the road from the fiberglass factory. Lucky you…you were in there 6 months before you even got a trial, because you were too ashamed to tell them what he'd done to you…I bet that 8' by 8' cell was better than being with Mommy, though." He could feel her fear and anger welling up as she tried again in vain to extricate herself from his hold. "You would have been there for two more years and then probably gone on and been sentenced to life in prison if that nosy Mrs. Masey from the trailer park hadn't been walking her dog down the back lane the night of your prom and seen him tearing your dress off through the window…I guess it's a good thing she went to the cops on your behalf…even though we both know you slaughtered him." He laughed, enjoying the pain and regret his words were causing. He knew that in his hands Nancy was malleable and would do whatever he wanted in order to keep him from exposing her. "You could have saved his life and let him go to prison for what he did to you…but no, you had to play God and let him die, writhing on your floor…. But luck was with you, wasn't it, because they let you off after that humiliating medical exam and sealed your Juvenile record up tight as you please…and at the age of seventeen you took off and never looked back. Wouldn't you say that's a pretty accurate account of what happened? I wonder how Dave would feel if he knew he'd exposed his precious baby girls to a murderer."

Triple H felt her breathing increase and for a moment he thought she might be about to hyper-ventilate. "And Mommy's boyfriend isn't the only one that's dead because of you isn't that right?" He gritted his teeth. "You're just a regular 'Jane the Ripper', aren't you? I bet if you think really hard, you can remember your Daddy…he was always good to you…always sober and loving even though your Mommy was always a drinker…he used to take you out to feed the ducks when Mommy was on one of her binges…I bet you can remember when he took you out looking for a Christmas tree and your mother demanded that she be allowed to come along even though she was slightly looped…that's what the court transcripts said…and he stopped by the bakery that he owned, after hours, so he could get you…what was it?...Ah, macaroons…because you loved them…and because he was a good father…but he was taking so long and you wanted those macaroons, so while Mommy was nodding off in the front seat…"

"Oh, God…please…you have to stop…" She whispered, through her sobs…how could he have possibly known every little detail unless he had unsealed her juvenile records? How could anyone be so brutal?

But he didn't comply with her pleading, he continued with a rushed a fierce tone. "But Sweetheart, I'm just getting to the good part…you snuck out of the backseat and ran into the store…but Daddy wasn't the only one in there…and when you flipped that light-switch on and startled those men, they pointed that gun at _you_. But Daddy loved his little girl and he put your tiny little body behind his and tried to talk them out of using that pistol, but you started to cry and tug at your Daddy's leg and they got restless. They would probably never have shot him if you hadn't come in there and interrupted them while they were robbing him…he was giving them the money, but you just had to have your cookie, like the selfish girl you are." His words were laced with venom and revulsion. "You watched him bleed to death _too_, huh? Because you were too little to save him, or because you were to ashamed of what you did…and you hugged him and shook him but he didn't wake up…you got his blood all over your grey coat."

Nancy was too weak and too ashamed to do more than lean forward and rest her defeated weight against the caddy, wrist still trapped and throbbing. "What do you want?" Her question was devoid of anything other than submission as her tears dripped over her lips and into her mouth. He'd known…exactly how it had all happened, and somehow had created, with the power of his bitter words, an incarnate version of exactly how she'd viewed herself. Nancy had only been lying when she'd told herself that it wasn't her fault, that she hadn't been to blame, but he was right, her mother was right…if she had stayed in the car like her Daddy had told her, then he would be alive today and she would never had been put in the position to defend herself against Eddie, against anyone, because her father would never have let a single soul hurt her.

"You're a smart girl…I'm sure you can guess what I want." He said in answer to her tearful question. "But in the interest of saving time…I'll be straightforward. We both know that I know all about your past…I even know about every single part of your body that's ever been injured because I have possession of all your medical records, I dare say I know more about your body than Dave does and I've never even had you…I bet there are quite a few interesting stories you had to tell the hospitals, huh?...I also know that you care for Dave a great deal…people like you never go into a relationship half-assed…people who have been hurt like you've been tend to love people more deeply, and sadly you tend to hurt people more deeply…I can guess that you would never want to see Dave be hurt or humiliated, because you know better than most how it feels to experience both. Now, I can keep him from finding out about your past…from being humiliated by you and all I need from you is a small favor in return." He waited and felt her body stiffen against his. She didn't even have to speak for him to know what she was thinking, her body language was giving her away.

"You'll have the opportunity to help me win a match against him…the specifics of which I'll supply you with later…and then I'll take the paper copies of what I have on you and give them to you for your own disposal. Understand that doing this means betraying Dave and it also means the end of a future with him, you'll lose him either choice you make, but if you make the right one you can at least save his feelings and his reputation…but in the meantime, you'll be a good little girl and keep quiet, because at least if you choose to help me he won't be publicly humiliated along with you."

He watched her shake her head in refusal.

"I _can't_ help you." She quavered.

"Yes…you _will_…" He hissed pressing against once more, so forcefully the caddy shook and Nancy cried out as her wrist was smashed, yet again. "You're gonna keep doing what you always do best, and that is to continue lying to everyone around you, including Max." Triple H continued as Nancy's shoulders shook with silent sobs "…oh yes…you're gonna keep silent about what you know of Vicki, and you're going to continue doing, whatever it is that's put such a big smile on Dave Batista's face as of late."

He delved just a bit further. "Oh and since I know you have a propensity to run away when things get rough…let me warn you that I can make it very hard on Max here and anywhere else he could choose to seek employment...You're best plan is to stick around because if you try to pack up and take off, I'll make sure that every major internet search engine has a fancy little link up to your past indiscretions, and you'll never have a job anywhere on this continent…and just to sweeten the pot, I have to say that I would hate for Vicki to call the police and tell them how Max wouldn't take 'no' for an answer…especially since she'll have a nice viable DNA sample here in about, oh…say half an hour." He laughed, shaking his head. "This is costing me a fortune, by God…she charges an arm and a leg to have sex with fat-boys."

Triple H glanced at his watch and then he backed away from Nancy, watching as she pulled her injured wrist from the drawer and slid down the wall into a defeated pile, tucking her knees up to her chin, as she folded her skirt under her legs to preserve her reticence. "A little too late for modesty don't you think? You're already tainted goods."

Nancy laid her head on her knees unwilling to look at him. She waited until he was gone, then she scrambled and ran to relock the wardrobe door behind him. Back on the floor behind the dressing screen with her heart pounding so fiercely it threatened to break her sternum, she scooted up against the wall and pulled her legs up under her, cradling her wrist in her lap as she glanced at the angry welt that was forming on both sides. This was insane, every aspect of it…how could she have let herself get into this position? She had been stupid to believe that she could be normal, that she could achieve a level of success and rise from the dredges of a trailer park…she'd been a fool to believe that something as sacred as a sealed juvenile court document could ever have been out of the reach of someone who wanted it badly enough. Nancy was hiding there on the floor, just like she had hidden in the bathroom floor of the convenience store after the first time she had run away from Eddie Pritchard. She wasn't safe then and she wasn't safe now. Her mother's boyfriend was dead, but Triple H had just as easily brought him back to life with his words and his blow by blow account.

Nancy covered her face with her trembling hands, ashamed and destroyed…it could all be over, she could run tonight, disappear now…leaving Dave with all his questions, ones that would never be answered. She could even possibly be miles away before he heard the news. Nancy had saved her money for years and could have gone fairly far if she was thrifty, but not now. Now it was impossible. Nancy had no choice but to stay, and to deceive Dave…not like she hadn't been doing that already, Triple H had been more than eager to point that out, but now it wasn't a ruse of her own volition…she had Max to think about and Dave's reputation…and two little girls that weren't hers and never would be.

Nancy still didn't know the specifics of what Triple H wanted her to do in return for his silence. Yes, he had said she would have to help him win a match, but it wasn't what he _had_ told her about the favor that was weaving icy terror through her heart, it was what he _hadn't_ told her.

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Dave Batista shut the door of Eric Bischoff's office, preparing for an ass chewing…he didn't much care whether he got one or not, because he was determined not to let anyone or anything spoil his good mood. He hadn't been able to think about much other than Nancy, and his own amusement over the curious faces of several of his friends when he had been carrying Nancy's luggage along with his own through the lobby and up to his room. He knew people wanted to ask, but they hadn't quite gotten up the courage to do so…he found it comical. And after the past few days he'd had, he was in such high-spirits that he wasn't really worried about anything Eric could do to him, even if he had promised there would be atonement to pay.

"Have a seat." Eric commanded from behind the massive desk.

Dave smiled, nonchalantly…it was slightly humorous, the look on Eric's face, the anger simmering below the surface of his authoritative demeanor. "I'll stand." Dave announced calmly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, defying Eric because he knew he could and just because he knew it would piss him off.

Eric scowled and then his angry expression drifted into a self-satisfied smirk. "Sit, Stand…I don't really care, because after you hear what I have to say, you just might be asking me for a chair." Eric pulled his glasses off and slid them into his jacket pocket. "I understand you have a little bit of free time on your hands…enough free time, in fact, that you've decided to partake in fraternization with another WWE Employee."

Dave almost laughed out loud, but instead he allowed the smile that had been playing at his lips to break into a full grin, and he sat down in the chair in front of Eric's desk, lacing his fingers together behind his head. He leaned back, still grinning and gave a sigh. "Now I know you're not gonna hassle me over what I'm doing in my free time…and I think it's fairly safe to assume that if other people on the roster can fraternize, than it shouldn't be a problem for me to do the same."

"As long as it's not affecting the performance of either of the employees, than it's not a violation of the rules…" Eric said in his most professional voice. "However, I do recall that you decided to employ your own set of twisted rules when you took Nancy and spirited her away from the arena the very first night she was scheduled to have a match, and I also seem to recall that during the match she actually showed up for, you jumped in the ring and nearly bludgeoned Chris to death with a chair and then you once again, dragged her away from her duties."

"Oh come on…" Dave shook his head, as a look of incredulous irritation crossed his face. "You actually expected her to work after that farce of a match?"

"You're damned right I did." Eric stated plainly. "She's being paid to do a job and it's not getting done."

"What are you saying? Are you gonna fire her?" Dave wasn't the least bit bothered at the prospect of her being jobless, because that meant that he could spend as much time with her as he wanted and no one could say anything, but he knew that she loved her job and for that reason alone, he was willing to bargain for her employment.

"I'm not sure that I want to fire her…and _only_ because I would be hard pressed to find someone that can do her job as well as she does it, despite the fact that no one seems to be able to find her when they need her." Eric admitted. "I understand that several of the Divas tried to get her to do some design work when she was on the island and she couldn't be found."

A little laugh bubbled forth from Dave's throat, _he_ certainly hadn't had a problem knowing where she'd been. "It seems to me that if she's expected to do work during her free time, that you should be paying her _more_ instead of bitching and moaning because she's not on call twenty-four hours a day." He sat forward and glared at Eric. "What is it you really want? Do you want me to say I'm sorry…promise that I'll leave her alone while she's on the clock? What?"

"Your word doesn't mean much to me, Dave." Eric stated. "I spoke with Vince already and gave him an idea to build on the match that we started Nancy in on Raw." He waited for the implication to sink in, halfway hoping that Dave might get down on his knees and beg.

Dave said nothing, but Eric didn't miss the way his jaw worked and his eyes darkened ominously. "So this is my penance? I get to watch you torment Nancy because you're angry with me." He ran his hand over the line of whiskers on his chin and propped his foot up on his knee.

"I had hoped that you would have let _her_ learn a lesson from her last match, but instead you came galloping in like a knight in shining armor and saved the day, and all she learned was that she can do whatever she wishes because you'll be there to ward off the blows." Eric smiled as he studied the man before him. "I'd say she's got you trained…you're becoming a hell of a bodyguard."

"Stop beating a dead horse and tell me what you want." Though his manner was calm and his temperament placid, Dave was inches from losing his cool.

"I've done some talking with Vince and I've decided to sanction a championship match." Eric stood up and began to pace behind his desk, not daring to come around to the side for fear that Dave Batista might be able to get hold of him if got any angrier. "The match will headline the next pay-per-view." He slid his hands up in mid air. "…Triple H versus The World's Heavyweight Champion, Batista---" Eric was cut off when Dave cleared his throat and raised his hand into the air.

"I think you forgot that my contract forbids a rematch." Dave reminded him even though he was still wondering what a match with Triple H could possibly have to do with all of Eric's insinuations about Nancy. "Maybe you should go back and re-read it."

"Nope, your absolutely right…that's what the contract says." Eric nodded his agreement. "However, it _never_ forbids a challenge of the title by proxy."

Dave was amused to the point of hilarity. "Now who in the hell is stupid enough to play as Triple H's proxy, and go through all the hell of a match with me just to hand over the title to him?"

"Christy Hemme." Eric made the statement as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Holy Hell…" Dave muttered and then laughed in earnest…it took him a long moment to recover from the highly entertaining notion of what Eric had just suggested. "An inter-gender match with someone who can't wrestle…does this _ever_ sound familiar."

"It's not exactly like you think." Eric informed him and continued. "It will be a tag match, You and Triple H on opposite sides, each of you with a female wrestler as your tag partner…when you tag out, he tags out so neither you nor Triple H will be in the ring with a female."

"Whose ridiculous idea was this?" Dave asked, rolling his eyes and letting out a heavy puff of air. "Christy's?"

"It shouldn't matter whose idea it is, since I've already been cleared to sanction it." Eric said roughly. "Now on top of all of that…the match is no holds barred…you seem to love that one…and the belt will be suspended above the ring only reachable by a ladder." He let it sink in, but was dismayed when there was no reaction from Dave other than a steely glance. "Now because of your contract, and the rematch clause…Triple H can never pin you for a win…nor can he retrieve the belt himself…so in the interest of fairness…you _also_ cannot retrieve the belt from above the ring, only your female tag partner may do so."

Dave knew in an instant exactly what it was that Eric was getting around to, he knew why Eric had been hinting around about Nancy and he'd be damned if he would allow another ludicrous escapade to happen a second time. "And so Triple H has picked his partner and it just happens to be Christy Hemme, right?" He worked his jaw again, clenching and releasing. "Did he get permission from his wife? A palace hall pass?"

"No, the match was picked because of ratings and the public's desire to see the two of you in a rematch…Triple H needed no one but Vince's permission, and as far as I know he chose Christy based on the impression that you might choose someone of little experience as well." Eric was stealthily circling the issue of including Nancy and Dave knew it.

"I don't know where he would have gotten that idea, because where the title's concerned, I'm calling in the big guns…I'll talk to Trish and see if she'll agree to partner with me…no way would I leave it to inexperience." He swallowed, thinking of how he would have to approach Trish, she was friends with Christy and she might consider it a conflict of interest.

"Well Vince and I thought that you might be ingrained with that particular line of thinking and so we decided that what was best for ratings, was hyping something similar to the '_damsel in distress_ dynamic' that you seem to have with Nancy." Eric slung the verbal dart pinning Dave squarely with it. "You have no idea the volume of e-mails we received after the match on RAW…people loved seeing you come in and trash the match…which I might add, was _not_ supposed to have been a part of the deal."

"True physicality was never supposed to have been part of the deal either, but I don't see you ripping Chris's ass out." Dave defended himself.

"I have a contract for Nancy to sign, two actually…one for the match...we'll do an in ring contract signing next week on RAW, and the other for three weeks of training at OVW." Eric dropped the bomb in Dave's lap and wasn't surprised when he got a reaction.

"She's not doing it." Dave announced forcing smiled in order to mask his fury. This entire scenario was Eric's sick vendetta and he was afraid that Nancy would pay dearly if she stepped in that ring with Christy.

"She doesn't have a choice!" Eric blasted. "And neither do you! I'll fire her _ass_ and I'll fire her buddy Max…I'll make sure that her résumé has a black streak on it that can be seen from a mile away. I'll even sue her for breach of contract, because she signed an employment agreement that stated she would _'be willing to undergo any and all future development endeavors required by the company in education or training to advance her knowledge of the inner workings of the industry in all facets'_…shall I go on or is that close enough to verbatim?" He slapped the copy of her employment agreement down on the desk, causing the other papers nearby to sail off the side and float to the floor. "Fuck with me on this, Dave and so help me I'll sue her for liquidated damages and she'll owe this company money that she'll never be able to repay!"

Dave knew that Eric had him dead to rights, there was nothing he could do in order to get him to change his mind, but he'd be damned if he'd let her be sent to OVW for training when he could do the job himself. He knew Nancy didn't want to wrestle, knew that if someone else trained her she'd learn what she needed to know to work the ring, but there were things he wanted to teach her. Besides, those guys didn't have a personal knowledge of what Christy might be tempted to do in retaliation and therefore he knew he needed to teach her a few tricks to protect herself. Dave had to teach her how to play 'dirty pool'.

"Don't send her to Kentucky." Dave requested. His voice remained calm and even. "Let me train her…I already know that she's teachable."

Eric snorted haughtily. "I'll bet you do…maybe you learned that much when the two of you---"

"Watch it." Dave cut him off, a dangerous glimmer in his deep brown eyes.

"I'll run it past Vince for confirmation…but I can't promise anything." Eric answered.

"Guarantee me something…at least _that_…I'm not leaving here until you do…and then you'll have to sue me for not fulfilling my match requirements for tonight." He pressed Eric for assurance.

Eric sighed and scratched his head. Dave was under his thumb, no doubt. No way in hell would Dave Batista have tried so hard to swing the stakes in her favor if he hadn't cared for her…using Nancy to get to Dave had definitely been one of Eric's better ideas. He supposed he could be made to fulfill a small concession, and so he told him. "You can train her, but Dibiase or Patterson has to see you work her in-ring before we can put her in the match…and if she's not ready by the time the match rolls around, then I will sue her ass, and that's your _guarantee_."

Dave nodded stiffly and stood to his full height…a harsh glare into Eric's Bischoff's eyes showed him fear, and he smiled…Eric might have the upper hand right now, but he would always be afraid. "I'll go tell her."

"No…you won't. I'll have her brought to my office now and explain the terms of the match to her personally." Eric announced with one eyebrow arched. "I suggest you get ready for your match…and I wouldn't worry, I'm sure you'll see her later and she can tell you all about it."

Dave glowered fiercely, and disappeared through the doorway. Once out in the hallway, he exploded like an overloaded radiator, kicking the trashcan next to the office door with such force, that it skidded across the hall, slamming into the wall and spilling over, sending trash in all directions. Several staffers including a female producer stood slack-jawed, watching the sudden furious outburst. Managing a miniscule shred of composure, Dave thought the better of destroying anything else. His energy would be better spent _after_ the show.


	24. Chapter 23

Uncommon Sense Chapter 23  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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By the time you swear you're his,  
Shivering and sighing,  
And he vows his passion is  
Infinite, undying -  
Lady, make a note of this:  
One of you is lying.

-_Dorothy Parker, Unfortunate Coincidence_

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Cool, white bed-linens and the sounds of Harry Connick, Jr. trickling from the bedside stereo, along with the flickering of a half dozen candles and the soft sound of New Mexico rain pelting the 10th story hotel window, was a healing balm on his injured pride. He was still angry at the catch-22 in which Eric had him trapped. And even though Dave hadn't really been a fan of old Connick, he would tolerate it because _she_ liked it. It wasn't that bad actually, or maybe it had merely been acceptable because she had been humming to it and hadn't been out of tune, just a sweet gentle softness that lulled the beast in him to a peaceful relaxation. And now he was slipping into the bed beside her, hardened muscle against much softer feminine flesh; deep chocolate eyes meeting her lighter jade eyes…eyes that had lost their shine in the last few hours.

Dave had wondered what was bothering her, she had picked at her food during dinner and been largely silent, both of those having been largely out of character for her. Several times tonight, Nancy had looked at him with questioning in her eyes, but had never quite gotten around to asking him whatever it was that she was thinking about. He knew that Eric had given her his spiel about the proxy match, but when he'd asked Nancy about the encounter she was, for the most part, nonchalant. The only thing that she seemed cheery about was the fact that Dave would be her trainer and she wouldn't be shipped off to Ohio Valley Wrestling.

At present, she was fully awake, halfway under the soft white sheet, waiting for _him_. She was smiling and accessible, as he propped his body over hers and brushed his thumbs against the side of her face. Dave stared at her intently for a long moment, trying to gauge the meaning of the look in her eyes. "You're afraid." He announced finally, his voice was a low rumble. "Something's got you scared."

Her lungs refused to fill with air, at the sudden realization that he could read her so easily. The smile was still on her face, because keeping it there would prevent her from crying and she was so very close to that…she didn't dare speak. She simply nodded and watched as a flash of lightning flooded the room.

"The match?" He asked, adjusting his hips so that her legs were on either side of his body. "You'll be fine." Reassurance was all he could give her at this point, and he didn't feel like ruining their night by filling it with futile summations of a match that wouldn't be happening for another few weeks.

Again Nancy nodded, neglecting to tell him that her fear had less to do with the match and more to do with the fact that he and she would not be together for much longer. And the prospect of knowing that he might spend the rest of his life with another woman was killing her. She reached her hand up to touch his face, to memorize the angle of his jaw and the proud slant of his nose. Her finger glided down the bridge of his nose and over the tip until it touched his top lip, down again until it grazed over his bottom lip and down the line of whiskers on his chin. "If you say so, then I believe you." She whispered, and she wanted to believe him, but it wouldn't be fine, and she wouldn't be fine.

Dave reached out to grasp her wrist so he could kiss her fingers, and stopped short when he heard the subtle intake of her breath. His fingertips could feel the raised, horizontal welt on her wrist even without seeing it and he lifted her arm up so that the candle light would reveal what he already suspected. A slightly bluish bruise was forming on the slender wrist, and he frowned. "That's an interesting bruise…when did you get that?" He hadn't remembered seeing it on her in the past couple of days…and he'd seen every inch of her more than once.

Nancy had rehearsed the story several times in her head, knowing that once he got a look at it he would want a plausible explanation for it being there. "I slammed into the doorframe when I was bringing the sewing machine into the arena."

"That's weird…" He remarked as he turned her wrist over. "Because it's bruised on both sides."

"Well I smashed it between the doorframe and the edge of the machine." She said a dry lump forming in her throat, praying that he would change the subject. "It's just a bruise, that's all."

"Does it hurt?" Dave asked, a sly smile curving his lips.

Nancy nodded, her heart beginning to pound wildly as soon as she detected the slight mischievous change in his demeanor.

He grazed his lips across the wound on her wrist and then followed it with the satin heat of his tongue. "Poor baby." He whispered. "You're so clumsy." The remark brought a soft laugh from her throat to his ears and it pleased him…especially since she had been so down earlier. "Does it hurt anywhere else?" He ventured the question, deciding to make a game out of the whole thing. His eyes were distinctly playful and something dark and feral behind them caused her pulse to quicken.

She wanted to answer his question and tell him that the only thing that truly hurt was her heart, but he couldn't help that and she knew it. "My neck is sore…" She said innocently, feeding into his sport, closing her eyes when his mouth traveled over her throat and collarbone, past her shoulder.

"What about here?" He asked, burying his head between her breasts.

"Definitely there." She answered her nipples hardening instantly. She grasped the back of his head with her hands as he kissed a trail down to her waist. Thunder rumbled in the distance, louder than before and with thicker vibration, indicating that the storm was coming closer. Lightning flickered, competing with the candle light…and along with his lips nuzzling the flesh of her belly, and the music, she could almost forget the predicament she was in.

He circled her navel with his tongue, ignoring her tiny laugh and the slight twist of her hips when his whiskers tickled her tender flesh. Dave ran one large hand upward on the silken landscape of her thigh as he lowered his mouth to tease the satin skin above her hipbone, a spot where he knew she was particularly sensitive. "Should I stop?" He asked when he heard her sharp intake of breath. "Or does it hurt somewhere else?" He grinned, kissing the top of her left thigh, dangerously close to her throbbing core.

Nancy tossed the sheets back so she could see the top of his head, but his eyes were trained on hers, as his mouth ventured ever closer to the place he knew she wanted him to be. "How about here?" He asked, tucking his arms under her backside, placing his palms on the small of her back and lifting, causing her to arch for him.

"Yes, there." She responded, her breath quickening in anticipation of him as the thunder crashed deafeningly, drowning out the music.

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Long hours of lying there, with the lightning flashing sporadically and tracing a soft pattern around the tattoos on his back with her fingertips, had her wondering how she could possibly be contemplating an action that would force Dave to question everything he'd come to believe about her. A dozen times at least since he had fallen asleep, Nancy had considered packing up and sneaking off into the night, traipsing down the hall to arouse Max from his sleep so they could take off together and both be safe from accusation. But then the soft stir of the man beside her, the feel of his skin beneath her fingers and the sweet smell of his body every time he rolled over and placed a hand on her leg or her back in the middle of his slumber, forced her to remember what had made her want to be with him in the first place.

One lone tear ventured across her lower lid and down the side of her cheek, but she wiped it away as if it had never been. Try as she might, Nancy couldn't possibly drag herself away from him, because with him was where she felt safe…his words and his touch obliterated her doubt, pulled at her innermost being and challenged her resolve.

Nancy rolled onto her back and stretched, a smile crossing her face, when she heard his soft snore. Now how fair was that? He never had a problem waking her from a sound sleep when he felt temptation strike, and here he was snoozing like he'd taken a pill. She turned over again, trying gently to extract some covers from beneath his huge frame so that she could cover up…finally deciding to hunker up next to his body for warmth instead of fighting to gain possession of blankets he wasn't even consciously aware that he was hogging.

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"I don't really need to hear all of the gory details…" Christy said squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the invasive image of Nancy being manipulated by Triple H. "I just wanna know if she's going to do what you asked."

"She's putty in my hands." He smiled, waving away the room service waiter. "She was scared to death…and irrefutably _crushed_. You should have seen her face." His words were emotionless. "She won't defy me, because she's too afraid of what people might think about her if they knew."

"Look, I don't need to hear about all of that, I already told you that it's not right." Christy snapped, picking at a hangnail. "That whole thing bothers the hell out of me and I don't need to know details…I'll never be able to sleep if I don't stop thinking about it."

"Weak minds…Christy…people who can't face things have weak minds." He concluded.

"Or maybe they just have consciences." She countered.

"Maybe…" Triple H sighed, spreading cream cheese on a croissant. "I guess now's as good a time as any to let you in on a little secret." He bit into the croissant and nodded his head in appreciation of the taste.

"No more secrets, okay…I'm just going to be prepared to use this time that she is distanced from him in OVW, to try to repair my _relationship_ with Dave…then it'll be an easier transition once she's gone for good." Christy fiddled with the corner of her flannel shirt, speaking in hushed tones to keep from waking Maria.

"Then maybe you should hear what I have to say, because if that was your grand arrangement, then you're not going to be happy." He said through chews and swallows.

"What now?" Christy whined, barely able to contemplate the twists and turns of the past few weeks.

"She's not going to OVW…" He bit his words off, waiting for her to explode.

"What!" Christy slammed her palm against the doorframe of the bathroom. "Damn it! You told me that she was going to be gone for three weeks! Why is it that everything on _your_ agenda is getting accomplished, while everything _I_ want is bulldozed by a change of plans?"

He laughed and stuffed another bite into his mouth. "I tried…but evidently Eric was given an ultimatum and he caved…Dave is going to train her to wrestle…he's taught her a few things already, but in three weeks, she's bound to know a hell of a lot more." He sipped his orange juice. "Should make for a good match."

"_I_ was supposed to have three weeks of uninterrupted time to try to get back into his favor and now there's no hope of that…God! I hate how this is starting to take shape…I swear I feel I'm getting the shaft." She glanced over her shoulder and saw a snoring Maria begin to rouse from her sleep. "I've gotta go." She snapped the cell phone shut, wracking her brain for a plan.

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"Where the hell did that come from?" Max asked as he lifted Nancy's hand up to inspect the bluish bruise on her wrist.

Nancy was headed into the restaurant with Dave as Max and Vicki were coming out…she had worn a thin cuff bracelet on her wrist, hoping to hide the welt, but the bracelet had slid down close to her hand, exposing the mark, and Max being as astute and perceptive as ever noticed it from a few feet away.

"It's only a bruise." Nancy said, trying to sidestep the discussion so she wouldn't have to admit where she had gotten it.

"Must hurt like hell." Max said grimacing.

"Not anymore." Nancy said hiding her smile, when she felt the faint squeeze of her other hand…a gentle reminder that _someone_ had already made it all better.

"They've got a huge buffet in there, tons of stuff…" Vicki interjected, looping her arm with Max's and leaning her slender body against his portly frame, in a gesture of possessiveness.

Nancy trained a hawk's eye on the slender brunette, her gaze traveling from the short spiky hair, down her smooth, unblemished face and then back up to her eyes. She placed her free hand in her pocket as soon as she felt the urge to slap the woman across the face.

"I'm hungry." She finally said softly as she looked up at Dave who was surprisingly curious and perceptively aware of the millisecond exchange of abhorrence between the two women.

"Max." Dave extended his hand in acknowledgement and Max smiled accepting the handshake, and then Dave shook Vicki's hand in turn. "You two have fun." He said and then tugged gently on Nancy's hand after she hugged Max and led her to a table in the middle of the restaurant, in plain view of several other wrestlers on the roster.

Small nods and smiles were exchanged from across the room and Nancy felt slightly self conscious…a bit like hiding behind her menu.

"I have to ask…" Dave said pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and then releasing it. "What was all the tension back there about?"

Nancy stared down at her place setting and then sighed. "She's not the right woman for him." She fiddled with her diamond, and it drew his attention to the soft lace neckline of her plum colored blouse…another of her creations.

"Why? Because she's from a different socio-status?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow. It was odd, because Nancy was normally very open minded about things.

"She's using him…I can feel it." Nancy said, sadness washing over her, as she remembered Triple H's confession and his command that she was to keep quiet about what she knew of Vicki.

"Using _him_?" Dave laughed. "For what? What does he have other than a great personality that she could possibly swindle out of him?"

Nancy leaned forward, weighing her words carefully. "Max is _very_ wealthy…he may not look it and I really don't think he cares as much about money as other people do…but he could buy out half of Colorado with what his family has in assets…it makes him a target…for women like her."

He was bothered by the heartbreaking look on her face, because it reminded him of Audrey when she'd been caught doing something wrong and was about to be in trouble…Nancy's sad eyes were having the same effect on him as his daughter's did and it surprised him that he felt the identical emotion…the need to do whatever he had to do to make her feel better.

"Just talk to him, if that's your concern." Dave lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, noting a grin as it spread across John Cena's face only a table away.

"I can't…I got onto him for butting into my affairs…I'd just be a hypocrite." She told him.

"He's your best friend…you could tell him the sky was falling and he'd go out and buy a helmet without checking first to see if you were right." Dave reassured her. "He trusts you…because you're honest."

She almost bit through the lip she had been chewing on. Nancy was not honest…she knew _that_ for a fact and it was a little like being slapped to hear him say that he thought she was. "You're right…I'll just talk to him later." But she knew she couldn't talk to him about it, she had to keep her mouth shut.

"Okay…" He laid her hand back down. "So let's eat…we've got a lot of work to do in the next three weeks and we have to start today."


	25. Chapter 24

Uncommon Sense Chapter 24  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"The terrible immoralities are the cunning ones hiding behind masks of morality, such as exploiting people while pretending to help them."

-_Vernon Howard_

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The previous two weeks had been a near dizzying blur. Nancy's days had been filled with in-ring training and her nights had been filled with Epsom salt baths to relieve soreness, shoulder massages, inventories of her bruises as well as other exceedingly entertaining physical distractions. And now the highly anticipated Championship Proxy Match, the WWE's first ever, was only two days away.

"If I can't win by pinning her explain the need for a finishing move?" Nancy asked, leaning against the ropes. She was half hoping that Triple H would be struck with some debilitating incurable illness and be unable to wrestle, thus liberating her from participating in the match at all.

"Well, we already know that we'll be _over_, meaning the title is supposed to stay in my hands, however…for the benefit of the entertainment aspect, you have to have a move that, in effect, stuns your opponent so you have time to get up the ladder and get the belt for _us_." Dave explained, knowing how important it was for her to understand and employ logic in her moves.

"What about the finisher you do…could I do that?" She asked, absentmindedly tapping the rope with her hand.

"If you were about a hundred pounds heavier and a man, then I would say yes, because _then_ it would be believable." He laughed, thinking of Audrey again…and how much alike they were proving to be. "But because you're so tiny, no one watching would buy it and you might get hurt trying."

She nodded, pleased that she was learning the psychology of the sport along with the physicality of it. In the couple of weeks under his instruction she had learned more about the sport than she cared to know and even though it wasn't something she would want to do for a living, she had to admit that it was fascinating.

"Okay, so what are you suggesting?" She asked, tightening her ponytail.

"Well, you and Christy are fairly evenly matched in size, so anything that you do won't necessarily need to be over the top in order for you both to sell it." He thought for a moment. "Trish has her Chick Kick, basically a modified Super Kick, Lita has the Twist of Fate…" He would never suggest Victoria's 'Widow's Peak', knowing that Nancy might actually want to try it.

She watched him as he thought out loud, for a moment, admiring the way he paced confidently back and forth, ticking off the finishing moves one by one on his fingers as he did so. Sweat, that had formed from their workout, dripped down his neck as he braced one hand casually on his hip and scratched his chin with the other.

"What about that thing that Sean Michaels does? The high kick thing?" She queried, stepping away from the ropes to pace opposite him.

"Ah, Sweet Chin Music." He smiled and then shook his head smoothly. "There will be _no_ 'tuning up the band' for you." He joked.

"Why not?" Nancy asked, disappointed. "It would look good."

"Well…because…that kick requires a sense of aim and timing." Dave said choosing his words cautiously. He was well aware that Nancy was less than graceful and even though she had learned what he'd taught her masterfully, he wasn't sure he wanted her trying to sell a super kick just yet, and finding a way to tell her without insulting her was tough. "Both people have to be in tandem with one another or somebody gets hurt."

"What are you trying to say?" Nancy narrowed her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Go ahead, you know you want to."

"Well…" Dave stammered, fumbling for a soft, inoffensive way to tell her…it was hopeless, because he was looking at her and she was trying to feign annoyance. Her eyes were little more than glittering slits and she was fighting back a smile…it was damned adorable. He laughed. "You do have _really_ bad timing." He said smiling widely and yet trying to soften the blow by offering a hug.

She stepped backward, and her jaw dropped with pretend shock, "Thanks a lot…that really hurts…" She pressed her hands over her heart and attempted to make her face appear as disappointed as possible.

He laughed and grasping her upper arms, pulled her up against him. "Well, it _will_ hurt…if your foot connects…you can break someone's jaw that way." He said referring to the kick. "So maybe you should just try a suplex and then follow it with a leg drop, then you can start up the ladder, if she follows you then you'll just kick her off." He playfully tugged at the curls that were secured up at the back of her head, and was instantly reminded of another place and time when he'd had his hands wound up in the thick tresses.

Nancy looked up at him, her arms wrapped around his waist…listening to him tell her what she should do, feeling a drop of sweat from his chin as it fell onto her chest and glided down between her breasts…it was somewhat erotic…somewhat bittersweet, knowing that she had less than forty-eight full hours with him before it would all be over.

"She'll have some sense of when to stop pursuing you so that you can get the belt…the referee will act as the ring general in this one, and give some verbal cues." He told her.

"Can _you_ do that kick…the one that Sean Michaels does?" She changed the subject, her curiosity about the kick piqued and the need to pull away from him to steady her frazzled nerves.

"Of course I can." He narrowed his eyes arrogantly.

"Show me." She tempted, knowing men could never resist a challenge.

"It's just a high…sort of, side snap kick." He told her, bending at the waist and raising his leg up, then straightening at the knee he snapped his leg up and out, halting his foot just above her head. "Obviously, I wrestle people taller than you…but anyhow, that's what it looks like, only faster and without full on facial impact."

Nancy nodded, eyebrows raised. "I can see why you don't want me trying it…but it does look good."

"It's actually an ideal move for a smaller female wrestler…just for a more experienced one than you." He said sitting on the ropes so she could exit the ring. "And after this match you're not getting in the ring ever again, so there's no sense in you learning something you'll never use."

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Christy waited impatiently for Triple H to show up. As usual he was late, that was the norm, but now he swept into the local wrestling school, in attire not suited for practicing with her, a manila envelope tucked under his arm. A look of serious determination etched into his features sent an involuntary shiver up her spine. They had both agreed to do one last run through of the match, being as it would take place day after tomorrow, but now seeing him dressed in a crisp business suit with sunglasses on, holding that bulky envelope told her that he was likely _not_ here to help her with a run through.

She ran the ropes for a few seconds just to avoid getting out of the ring to deal with him. Christy had no desire to discuss Nancy's life in detail anymore, obviously the contents of the envelope…it was bothering her that she even knew and bothering her that she felt pity.

"You're gonna get that suit torn up." Christy made a last ditch effort at humor.

"Nope." He pulled his sunglasses off, schooling his features into a lucid calm. "We need to go over a few things…last minute details." Triple H announced, sitting down in a metal chair, glancing around to make doubly sure that the small wrestling school was empty for their training as he had been promised.

"I agree, so go get dressed and we will." Christy bounced against the ropes again.

"Not in-ring details Christy. Come down here." He seemed patient, by the look on his face, but his words were stern, a disturbing juxtaposition.

She tucked her tongue between her teeth and cheek, rolled her eyes and slipped between the ropes, dropping to the floor on both feet. "Can't this wait? I told you I'm _so_ tired of hearing about the crap she went through okay? I mean it's like the titanic…it sunk already! Why do I have to hear about it one more time?" She was whining now, it came naturally to her.

A dispassionate laugh erupted from his lips as he laced his arm over the back of the chair next to him on which he had placed the envelope. "I just wanna make certain we're all clear on what our individual responsibilities are before we ever step into that ring tomorrow night." He said fingering his moustache as she lifted the envelope and sat down.

"I _already_ know what I'm supposed to be doing…I don't need to read up on it any further." She handed him the envelope and swiped a small white hand towel over her face, removing a thin layer of sweat.

"Well, there's better reading in there this time…I assure you that." Triple H smiled and handed the envelope back. "Actually, you could say that there's better _viewing_ in there."

Christy arched a brow and took a deep breath. She wasn't sure what he was getting at, but she was fairly sure that she wasn't going to like it. "Look I don't wanna see it." Her voice dropped to a low uneven rasp, her pulse racing in pensive irritation.

"Oh, but you should…it's a damn _great_ show…" He smiled as soon as he saw her face grow pale. "Just read the outer sleeve that the tape is concealed in and you'll see what I'm talking about. You won't even need to watch it."

Christy opened the envelope and pulled the tape out, turning it over in her hands so that she could get a better look at the cover. As soon as she saw the name on the cover, she dropped the tape in her lap as if it had caught fire.

Triple H laughed. "Don't you remember when I told you _everyone_ has a past?" He watched as hot tears began to stream down her face, and he had to admit that even though it was not nearly as satisfactory as watching someone beg the way Nancy had, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "I mean it was hard trying to find something noteworthy in _your_ past, being as you've already posed nude...obviously that's a non issue."

Christy shoved the tape back into the envelope and hugged it to her belly as though protecting this copy meant there might be no others.

"But, when Jonathan Coachman came to me with this…I realized, that there is dirt under the fingernails of everyone…_even_ Christy Hemme." He watched as she glowered at him. "I have to admit, that a thousand dollars and a guaranteed contract re-signing for Coach was some of the best money I've ever spent."

"It was just sex." She whispered, her chin trembling, holding the tape tightly.

"I know that, but the board of directors _doesn't_ know that." He smiled…admiring his own ability to effectively plant seeds of fear. "And even though we all know that the good people of the USA voted you in as the Diva Search Winner…the fact that you had drunken sex with Jonathan Coachman prior to the final elimination _might_ lead one to believe that he had something to do with getting you pushed through to the Raw Debut before the fans even had a chance to vote." He see-sawed his hand back and forth to home in on his point.

"It was a mistake…we both admitted it…I had no idea he was filming it...I was so drunk I barely remember…for all I know I could have been fucking The Rock." Christy's lip quivered. "I already told you I would do whatever you asked, so that I could be with Dave after everything goes down…why are you threatening me with this?"

"Well, he _was_ filming it sweetheart and he even caught that part where you used your red lace panties to tie his hands together…I just want you to remember our agreement, and I want you to have something to think about, being as your contract re-signing takes place in three weeks…hell of a bad time for something like this to come out, don't you think?" He turned to face her and snapped her chin up with his forefinger so she would face him. "This is my insurance just in case you decide to go off and sprout a _conscience_ all of a sudden!"

For the first time in days Christy suddenly knew exactly how Nancy felt, very small and very trapped. "I told you I'd do it…so I'll _do_ it." She felt defeated…much the way she imagined Nancy must have…and for two people on opposite ends of the playing field, both women certainly had a hell of a lot in common.

"Excellent…now we're clear." He stood up, chewing his gum cheerily as if he'd just announced that she was due a raise in pay. "You can keep that…I have another copy."

All Christy could hear as she hugged the tape to her chest, watching her career circle the toilet at the imminent exposure of the scandal, was the sound of his shoes on the concrete floor as he retreated. Cold and calloused, he was calculating and he had everyone involved…by the balls…she hadn't even planned to deviate from the original course they'd plotted, but now, she had every reason to obey everything he'd ordered her to do.

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Max was fed up to the hilt…sinking his teeth into a mushroom burger down the street at a Bennigan's, all by himself, just to attain a modicum of peace. He had quickly come to the conclusion that sex with Vicki was just a front for something deeper…a shopping addiction, fueled by Max's Visa. Every time lately when they'd made love, it was either prompted, or aided by some type of alcohol, freely imbibed by the skinny little leech. And he was a fool for having fallen for it…but at the same time he was tired of being alone, and some companionship was better than no companionship. Even Vicki's attitude was changing and day by day she was becoming more and more belligerent, as if she somehow knew that the path they were on was coming to an end…one that she eagerly seemed to be awaiting.

The only thing that changed her mood swings was another purchase or the prospect of another purchase…it was a typical gold-digger scenario and Max was starting to reconsider his relationship with her, hell he was even considering a new career…maybe becoming a monk might be a good idea because it meant that he wouldn't have to deal with women anymore, period. But then again they didn't feed monks this well in monasteries…so that was out of the question.

He had even been surprised when Nancy had pulled him aside after her wrestling practice the day before and asked him about his feelings for Vicki, warning him to be cautious. He'd been blunt and bad-mannered, asking her butt out and telling her that if she could be happy, then he should be allowed to be happy too. Nancy had appeared hurt and he regretted his outburst…but before she left she'd asked him to be watchful, careful of Vicki…never giving him reason. He assumed it was because women were pretty well clairvoyant and maybe she knew Vicki's true colors. But things seemed to be out of kilter for Nancy as well. She had practically avoided Max altogether for the past two weeks, between the wrestling training and her after training interludes…and it seemed that every time she got a glimpse of him with Vicki in passing, she appeared either saddened or verging on anger. Never once had she said what it might have been about Vicki that was bothering her. Nancy hadn't needed to, because Max knew her well and couldn't have missed the tension between the two women even if he'd been a blind man.

He sopped up the last of the mushroom gravy with his fries, wishing that he was sharing lunch with his best friend…she was the only person he knew besides his own family who accepted him for appearances and never expected anything from him. He missed having to dodge French fries during dinner and fighting over the bathroom and hotel beds. He missed seeing her smile…it was something that he hadn't detected on her face as of late. He'd only seen her at one house show since she'd been railroaded by Eric Bischoff into a bogus match and that night he'd ventured to ask her what was wrong, but she'd looked at him as if he'd sprouted another arm and reassured him that all was fine and he had no reason to worry. Nancy was a damned good liar. He had to give her that much credit, but he still wasn't willing to believe her. Either she was scared to death of the impending match or there was something else eating at her.

Max surmised that Dave wasn't the one who had put her in a foul mood because he'd seen the two interacting when they hadn't noticed him and they seemed to be a well suited pair. It was a mystery to him and as much as he wanted to try to solve it…Nancy had asked him to stay out of her affairs…and he'd made her a promise that he had no plans of breaking.


	26. Chapter 25

Uncommon Sense Chapter 25  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"It is remarkable how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity."

-_The Matrix - Revolutions, character Merovingian_

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Five hours until Showtime and she lay alone in the dark, curled in the fetal position, the hard hotel bed as her only comfort. Christy had always considered sex a casual endeavor…and now she was paying a hefty price for her lack of discretion. One post-RAW, Diva hopeful party and her exuberance for vodka and cranberry juice had sealed her fate. It wasn't as if she'd ever truly thought that a sexual encounter with Jonathan Coachman would have helped her advance on to the voting stage of the competition, and undoubtedly it hadn't, since the act in question hadn't taken place until after the first round of fan voting had begun. Christy had just been so damned drunk, and he'd given her a ride back to the hotel because she had missed the Diva Van, after having been hunkered over a toilet in the bar's restroom.

Christy remembered little to nothing about the actual act of sex, it had been done more as a way to pass the time, maybe even celebrate that she'd gotten that far…even she couldn't quite put her finger on why. The fact that he'd had such a calloused indiscretion in filming it was beyond her realm of comprehension. Maybe he'd even lain in wait to see whom he would take home that night…maybe it might not have even been her if she had mandated her liquor consumption…taken a cab…any degree of divergence from what she had originally done, might have changed the whole mess. Her tears were little consolation…for she knew that once the tape hit distribution, everything she'd worked for including building a life with Dave Batista would be buried in an instant under a pile of scandalous rubble.

Christy Hemme's hopes were few and her choices fewer…true, her conscience had been plagued for nearly two weeks after having read the reports, newspaper clippings court transcripts…all of the dirt he'd dredged up on Nancy Adams, and more than once she'd felt the conviction to do something to change the whole outcome. But it was too little too late now, if she did anything to upset the Master's plan…both women would be ruined. Her career and any future hopes of career advancement, as well as any dreams she might have had of becoming the wife of a champion would be dust in the wind if she rebelled. And Nancy…_her_ black past would be splattered all over the place…there would be no employment prospects in the near future for her either, along with the fact that the only love she might ever find with a man again would be in a third-world country where they didn't have televisions.

Christy rolled over, arms still wrapped around the envelope that housed the tape. Things would go as planned…they had to…She would do as she was told and then she would keep the secret and take it to her grave. She would console Dave Batista and help him recover from the knee injury she knew Triple H planned to inflict and then she would be the driving force behind his return to the top. Together they could make a life and he would be willing to forget Nancy. Christy would make sure that it happened just that way…because if she had ever considered otherwise…now she had no alternative.

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Nancy leaned forward and swiped her hand across the steam covered bathroom mirror, taking a deep and pensive breath. She sponged excess water from her curls with a towel and then wrapped another around her body as her feet sank into the thick tub-side rug. There was very little time left until the show and her body was a mass of nerves. She hadn't been able to stand still for hours, hadn't been able to eat a full meal in at least a day and certainly hadn't been able to resign herself to the task of a betrayal she was still unclear about. _'You'll help me win a match…the details of which I'll supply you with later…'_ She remembered his words from the evening in the wardrobe room and closed her eyes trying to block it out. He had not yet come to tell her in what way she was to help him and that meant that she was to expect another confrontation from him. It made her mouth run dry as the blade of fear sliced through her spirit.

Nancy frowned and stared into her own eyes reflecting back at her in the clouded mirror. She saw a mixture of doubt and deceit, conflict and surrender…she was a liar and a conspirator…and her selfish pride and the sheer fear of everyone knowing the details of her past imprisoned her, keeping her tethered to the vindictive will of someone who wanted everything, in spite of his wife's objections and wasn't afraid to covertly destroy everyone around him to have it.

His reflection appeared from behind her, much taller in the mirror than she…the warmth of him against her back hotter even than the air in the steamed up bathroom. She felt his hands on her hips as the front of his body pressed against her back and he leaned his chin on the top of her head staring at the two of them for a moment in the hazed mirror. "Can I borrow you for a few minutes?" Dave asked, sliding his hand into the wet curls and letting them fall between his fingers. His voice was low, his eyes held a determined luminosity.

"You know it _never_ takes just a few minutes…" She insinuated, reaching her arms up behind her to wrap them around his neck.

His throaty laugh, a mix of restraint and humor tickled her ear. "_That_ has to wait until after the show…because if I get started now…we'll never even get there." He cupped her backside, playfully. "I have to show you something…in there, close your eyes."

Nancy let him lead her from the hotel bathroom into the bedroom, and relished the feel of the cooler air on her wet skin even though it created gooseflesh. He brought her to the edge of the bed and then told her softly that she was permitted to look. The large white box on the bed caught her eye and she immediately began to chew her lip nervously. She was afraid to approach it…afraid to take another gift from someone she would soon be leaving on traitorous terms.

"Open it." He said pointing to it.

Nancy took a deep breath, unable to meet his eyes as she slid the white bow aside and lifted the lid, pushing the paper apart. It was wrestling gear…for her, _just_ for her…not borrowed, but made solely with her in mind. Her breath caught in her throat and as she lifted the pieces from the box. She turned to him, her eyes and voice wavering. "You didn't have to do this…it must have cost you a fortune."

He didn't miss the tremble in her voice nor the way her eyes darted uncertainly from him to his gift, as if she somehow felt she didn't deserve it. "I could _not_ in good conscience, let you go in there looking like an amateur." He explained. "Besides, you're worth it."

"You shouldn't have done this." Her eyes rimmed with tears. "You know I'll never use them again after tonight."

"That's okay…you can just frame them…or whatever it is girls do with things they think are special." He smiled as he watched her hold the gear as if it were precious silk. "Then, twenty years from now, you can look back and remember that this was the first major thing we ever did together."

Her eyes swept from the box to his eyes and confusion flickered in them. "The first major thing?" She repeated his words in a whisper to be sure what she heard was what he'd actually said.

"There'll be other major things." Dave said searching her eyes, confirming for her in not so many words, that there was more to come for the two of them.

She was floored by his admission and she leaned into his chest thanking him for his gift. Tempted to tell him the truth and yet terrified to hear his response. Nancy just held fast her position against him, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her head against the wall of muscle. Relishing the steady sound of his heart and feel of him and fighting with the knowledge that she would never be here, this way with him again after tonight.

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Max narrowly missed being beheaded by the boom microphone as part of the sound team rushed past him in the corridor, preparing to set up the area for promos. He lugged the last of the heavy machinery into the wardrobe room deciding that he missed Nancy as much for her partnership as he did for her help with unloading their supplies from the bus. After tonight she would be back fulltime as his work partner, but not as his roomy. It was a sacrifice he could make, because he knew she was happy.

He plugged the sewing machine in and draped the cord over the back of the table, humming an off-key version of the 'Love Boat' theme, when a brown alligator skin make-up case caught his eye. He clearly recognized it as Vicki's. He rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated groan, thinking she must have been in here looking for him when he'd gone back out to retrieve the last of his things and had probably left the make-up bag accidentally.

Max had successfully avoided her for almost eighteen full hours and he'd even begun to feel a little better about himself, but now seeing the bag and realizing she probably needed it, caused the black cloud to pop right back up over his head and so he snatched it up and prepared to go track her down.

"Seen Vicki anywhere?" Max asked a random member of the make-up team as he passed.

"I think she went around the corner for something to eat…I know she left the arena though." The young man said, as he restocked a make-up cart, eyeing the bag in Max's hand. "You need me to take that?"

"Nope…I really have to talk to her." It suddenly dawned on Max that instead of just handing the make-up over and sinking into the background…that it was imperative for the preservation of his dignity that he tell her he was through with her…even if she insulted him and she likely would…he would tell her that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Max traipsed around the corner headed for the arena's back door intent on some fresh air and a moment to prepare his speech before he had to deal with her.

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Dave laid Nancy's bag on the floor by the door just inside the empty wardrobe room. "You sure you wanna dress in here?" He asked. "There's a really nice women's locker room right around the corner."

"I'm fine here." She told him as he held on to her hands.

"I have to go, because there's something that needs my attention, but I will meet you in one hour at the bottom of that ramp." He hitched his thumb over his shoulder, and then smiling, he curved his hand around the back of her neck, allowing his fingers the luxury of her curls. "Just remember everything we worked on and you'll be fine." He kissed her soundly on the mouth and then touched her lip with his forefinger. "The ramp…one hour." He reminded her firmly and arched his brow. "Don't be late."

She watched him go and then sank into the chair ready to cry…but she didn't, there was no time for that. Nancy was again tempted to leave, ready to bolt out through the back door and run for the fields the way she had when she was younger. And she was fast…she could probably run all the way to the bus station and be on a Greyhound bound for God knows where by the time the match started, but she couldn't leave because even if she hadn't been afraid of everyone knowing about her past, there was Max to think about too. The thought that Vicki was prepared to go to the police and accuse Max of a rape that he'd never committed was more than she could bear. Nancy was definitely stuck between a rock and a hard place and that was where she was going to stay. She felt her ire rise as she set about the task of preparing for the match, opening her bag and discovering that her purse was gone.

Prepared to go find Dave and get the keys to the rental car so she could scour it for her purse, she stood and spun around only to come face to face with a smiling former heavyweight champion. Again he had locked the door behind himself, and again he emanated the same threatening aura.

"What do _you_ want?" Nancy snapped, zipping her bag shut with unnecessary force.

He laughed and nudged her bag to the side with his shoe. "My, aren't we ill-tempered this evening?" He was holding another envelope addressed to a major publication. "Aren't you gonna welcome me into your dressing room? We are, after all…partners in crime."

Nancy stood up and planted both hands on her hips, her eyes flashing darkly. "I'd sooner welcome a seizure."

Another laugh erupted from him as he rounded on her, holding the envelope up so she could see it. "I like your audacity, Nancy…it must have served you well in the days following your…unfortunate…abuse." He reached out without warning and grasped her chin between his fingers, tugging her forward. "But, that kind of false bravado will _not_ serve you well in the ring tonight…I don't like the look on your face or the tone of your voice, so I'm gonna make it perfectly clear what you're to do and you _will_ do it!" His voice was harsh as he pushed her back away from him.

Humiliated, Nancy fell into the chair behind her as soon as the back of her knees made contact with it. "Just make your point and get out." She said weakly, staring at the floor.

"The last person you should be pissing off is me." He leaned down and braced his hands on the arms of the chair on either side of her. "Now…I _need_ you as clear headed as possible so that we can coincide on this plan."

She wouldn't look him in the eye of her own accord, but was forced to do so when he tilted the chair back with a violence that nearly tipped it completely over. He held the chair at its awkward slope and he reveled in the look of terror on her face that now overshadowed her erstwhile air of rebellion. "Look at me, dammit!" He hissed. "If you're getting _any_ ideas about becoming a hero, then _don't_…because I will mail this envelope to the newspaper and any major magazine I can think of and watch as your name gets plastered all over the news. I'll create a scandal for the WWE, so big that they'll have no choice but to let you go…and then I'll remind you once more about Max and his imminent arrest, should Vicki grow a wild hair and go to the cops."

"You're depraved." She hissed through clenched teeth and then cringed when he shook the chair again aggressively.

"You _will_ take a fall tonight, understood?" He said watching tears spring to her eyes when his face came within inches of hers. "I'm gonna take Dave out at the knee, and then you're gonna take a fall and allow Christy to get the belt."

Realization dawned on Nancy and she stared wide-eyed as Triple H let the chair fall into its original stable position on the floor. "You're gonna injure him?" Her heart began to thump erratically. "If I take a fall…you don't have to hurt him…you'll still win the match." She insisted.

"It has to be done this way, or else the title will just revert back to him in some dumb assed rematch clause or some technicality that WWE Creative will come up with as a reason to please the fans and put the belt back around his waist."

"Please, don't do that…" She asked, swallowing and standing to her feet. "I told you I'd do whatever you asked…"

"You'll do whatever I ask, _period_." He cut her off, leaning down to look her in the face.

Nancy put one trembling hand to her forehead and looked at the floor as if to stifle an oncoming headache. "You don't have to hurt him…there's another way" She stuttered. "You're married to Stephanie McMahon, if you talked to her I'm sure she'd---"

"_This_ is how it gets done." He interjected dangerously. "If all I had to do was talk to my _wife_, then do you think I would be holding your past over your head? Smarten up!" He ignored the fresh tears that were falling down her face. "Now, when you see me take the chair to Dave's knee, you be prepared, because right after that, Christy plans to do a flying clothesline off the top rope…very simple, you just take the bump and lie there like a log…she'll get the belt and it'll all be over…easy as that."

Nancy shook her head. "I can't." She whispered, pleading with him to change his mind.

"Think of Dave…and his little girls…think of Max." He played on her weakness. "Think of how embarrassing it would be for everyone involved…Nancy, think of how sad Max's mother will be when she has to visit her baby boy behind a wall of glass." He stepped behind her and pulled from his pocket the very small portable wireless monitor that he had borrowed from one of the stage hands. "And now here's the best reason for you not to go off track tonight."

He flipped the screen up and reached his arms around from behind her so that she could see the screen and so that she couldn't make a move to get away from him. "That's the press box…high above the ring. I'm sure you recognize the woman in the front row." He laughed when he heard her swift release of breath. "She's so drunk she doesn't even know _why_ she's here…all she knows is that some nice, rich man visited her and put her on a plane, in a limo and up in a posh hotel room with the promise of possibly seeing her daughter…all of it fueled by a steady stream of Jim Beam." He taunted her. "It's so funny, you know…she can't even remember what you look like, because _my_ friend showed her a completely anonymous photo when he lured her out here and she thought it was you. So if you cooperate tonight and do what I ask, the young lady I've hired will _pretend_ to be you, take Mommy out to a nice dinner afterward and then send her back home to die in peace, knowing her daughter didn't hate her…that's a favor I'm willing to do for you…but if you nut up against me in any way whatsoever, I'll make sure that the tabloids have unlimited access to Mommy Dearest the minute your story breaks…and I'll make damn sure that she knows exactly where you are and how she can keep in touch with you."

Seeing the woman in the press box brought back every hidden emotion from her childhood, the fear, anger and despair all swirling throughout her body was as real and fresh as it had been every time she'd experienced it in the past. Familiar and easy to recall were the fists and the kicks, the spewed curses…the promises that she'd burn in hell for her father's death…the ridiculous accusations and the insults that had scarred her innocent heart and made her afraid to give herself wholly to anyone. And she _was_ there…large as life, the same hardened hands…the same stringy hair, only resembling something phantom-like and a hundred years past her expiration date.

"I'll do it." Nancy said, her hand pressed against her stomach, deciding that she wasn't far from facing the indignity of vomiting.

"Good girl…" He said softly, as he smelled her hair. "And after…I'll hand over everything to you, and make sure that Mommy is swept back home without ever knowing where you are. Then you'll be right as rain, and Max will be fine…and Dave will be out of commission for a time, but he'll be better off without you, without that embarrassment…you'll realize that one day…and you'll thank me."

"I doubt that." She whispered.

"Dry your eyes and get ready. You have half an hour." He closed the monitor and palmed the envelope, headed toward the door.

"You must really hate me." Nancy said before his hand reached the knob, unsure why she even said it…perhaps it was the feeling inside of her that told her she might be able to accept his violence or justify his depravity if she knew that he hated her.

"On the contrary…I don't hate you at all…in fact if I wasn't married and things were different I might have found you as entertaining to pass the time with as Dave does…It's just business, Nancy…there's no hate involved." He unlocked the door and walked out, leaving her to herself.

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The feeling of taking a shotgun blast dead-on in the chest was the only way he could describe his current state…he slipped back away from the locked wardrobe door and back around the corner in a less populated area of the arena. Dave Batista had returned to the rental car only moments prior to retrieve his PDA so he could remind his girls to watch the match, when he'd discovered Nancy's small beaded handbag wedged between the seat and the center console. He had been making an attempt to return it to her when he'd come upon the locked door and a harsh argument apparently trying to be masked on the other side of the door. He'd been prepared to kick the door in off of its hinges when he recognized the voice and his intuition prompted him to listen.

In the few minutes he had leaned against that door, he'd caught an earful of things he hadn't wanted to hear. Nancy's betrayal was being orchestrated on the other side of the door by Triple H who evidently had something of substance to hold over her head. She had done something in her past and was willing to bargain for his silence by offering up Dave as the sacrificial lamb. He had heard the plan to injure him, to put him out of commission, had heard the threat to mail copies of something horrific to a newspaper columnist…he had even heard her try to needle her way out of helping Triple H, he'd heard her beg and after some crafty persuasion he'd heard her submit. He knew the exact terms of her betrayal, when and how…but not why. He felt a physical pain where he had just moments ago felt elation.

All the hope of making future memories with this woman, were fast fading, and as he watched Triple H saunter down the hall, despite the sudden urge to rip his throat out, he knew he had to do something and he turned the corner and decided to march right in there and confront her. He opened the door of the wardrobe room silently and as soon as he got a glimpse of her, his resolution failed him. She was standing up, using the table for support, palms flat on the table's surface with her head down. Utterly defeated.

"Nancy." He said her name and she jumped, quickly regaining her composure. "I have to talk to you." He placed her handbag on top of her duffel, and grasped her hand, searching her eyes for some regret, some remorse…but then how could she be remorseful when she wasn't even aware that he knew what she planned to do. "We can't talk here." He pulled her toward the doorway as she tried to protest and tell him she had to get ready. "We have plenty of time." He told her, a firm snatch grip on her wrist.

The heat of his hand and the firm insistence as he nearly dragged her down the hallway and around the corner, worried her…how could she ever do what was required of her if he kept touching her, looking at her? Dave looked both ways as he stopped in front of a utility closet he'd seen moments ago when he'd backed around into this little used area of the arena, opening it, he shoved her inside and stepped in after her, closing the door and twisting the tiny lock on the knob.

"Why are we in here?" She asked, nervously.

Dave couldn't quite determine the answer to that one himself…maybe his original intention had been to bring her in here so that he could confront her without fear of interruption…maybe to shake some sense into her addled brain…scare the truth out of her, maybe…but he couldn't do it. His hand was on the back of her neck before he could stop it, drawing her closer to him, as he walked her backward toward the wall.

"We can't do this in here." She whispered…they couldn't do it anywhere, because she was a coward and a liar and he deserved better.

"Hush!" He whispered fiercely, pushing her back against the wall.

"Dave." She tried to speak, but was cut off by the violent pressure of his lips on her mouth. Insistent, forceful, paralyzing…he wasn't playing games.

"Quiet…" He said as his hands roamed over the front of her body. "No noise, or they'll catch us." He spun her around and leaned his own back against the wall, wrapping his hands around the front of her body and cupping her breasts. He pressed her back against him and breathed in her scent. He wanted to tear the clothing from her body and show her again why they were meant to be together…why she shouldn't betray him, but he knew that if he made love to her again, he wouldn't have the strength to walk away from her even after she handed him over to the wolves.

No, tonight was for her…he wouldn't torture himself by taking what he would never be able to forget, but he would give her something…something she would take with her forever, a reminder of what she had lost because of her lies. His hands drew her skirts up past her hips, wedging them between her lower back and his pelvis and then with a swift rending of fabric he tore her panties from her body and slipped them into his pocket. Her gasp and the sudden stiffening of her body was quickly replaced by a near moan, when his hand inched around her hip to her thigh, a silent urging for her to part her legs. "Hush!" He demanded fiercely in her ear again as the steel band of his arm clamped over her chest and his hand pressed over her mouth. With his free hand he grazed the juncture of her thighs, feeling her stiffen in anticipation…his own body ached to rid himself of the clothing and take her fully, but he wouldn't…he pressed his hand against her core and felt her tremble…venturing a finger inside he felt her moist and throbbing.

It was then as he touched her that he began to whisper to her, holding her there against him covering her mouth so she could not speak, could not respond…she was forced to listen and feel. Words he hadn't known that he knew came out of his mouth as he told her his fantasy of a future even though he silently knew in his heart that it was a future they would no longer have. His fingers were gentle and consistent, sliding inside of her as he caressed her. He could hear the small stifled moans and feel her breathing increase as he whispered to her, telling her how much he wanted her, how he wouldn't let her go…promises he secretly, painfully knew he couldn't keep, not after tonight.

He felt her body react familiarly to his touch, and knew from his own experience that she was blessedly close to release. She was clinging to the arm that held her when he felt her break, her body shuddering in his tight embrace, her cries blocked by the hand over her mouth. And he knew it…that moment…every moment before…from the very moment he'd seen her watching him from the rafters…and he had to tell her. "I love you…" He whispered it into her ear, even as her body was still racked by the orgasm. He felt her fall slack in his embrace and listened to her breathe heavily against him. He didn't know whether it would make a difference to her, but it _had_ to him. He wouldn't tell her what he knew, what he had heard. He let her skirts fall back down and spun her around to face him.

The light from under the door showed him little more than her silhouette but his thumbs on her cheeks, grazing her tears told him that she was crying. He wanted her remorse, wanted her to come clean and tell him, but at the same time…he knew that he couldn't trust her words, actions were the only things that interested him, now.

"Dave." She said his name softly through her tears, her voice quivering. "I have to tell you something." She knew that it was now or never, and if he chose to walk away, then at least she had done the right thing. Hearing how he felt was all it took for her to know that she couldn't do what she was being forced to do.

"No." He put a finger on her lips to halt her. "Later."

"Please." She pushed his hand away, determined to tell him the truth.

And he couldn't hear what she had to tell him, he knew if she returned his feelings, if she could stand there in the midst of her lie and tell him that she loved him it would kill him…he wasn't altogether sure that he might not go on a violent rampage at the thought of her in cahoots with Triple H and claiming to be in love with him at the same time, and so he clamped his hand over her mouth again to shut her up. "Not now…" he told her. "After the match, we'll go back to the hotel and I'll make love to you until you can't move and _then_ you can tell me whatever you wanna tell me, but not right now." It was a lie, an empty promise and he knew it…after the match _he_ would likely be in a hospital exam room with an injury inflicted as a result of her betrayal and she would have her precious past, intact. Whatever it was that she had done to warrant such fierce secrecy and such cruel duplicity, he hoped that it was worth it because she was about to lose him.

He pressed his lips against hers with demanding, ignoring her tears. It was as if he had branded her, right there in that closet…no matter what she ever did after tonight and with whom, he would always be the one she remembered…and that's the way he wanted it.

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She tugged her elbow pads on and rolled her head from side to side, working a kink out of her neck, when she heard the voice from behind her. Christy Hemme turned to confirm who it was, and ducked her head slightly, when she saw Nancy standing in the doorway of the women's locker room, empty now, save for the two of them.

"You're not dressed for the match." Christy observed.

Nancy stepped further into the locker room and perched on the edge of a bench. "I can't do it." She told Christy.

"Brave all of a sudden, huh." Christy smirked, despite the fact that she had been thinking the same thing.

"I came to ask for your help." Nancy said, biting her bottom lip. "I might have thought I could go through with this whole thing, but not after knowing that he plans on putting Dave out of commission."

"Doesn't look like you have much choice." Christy appeared conflicted and nervous. "The man knows everything about everyone and he'll use it to his advantage."

"Christy, you could help me put a stop to this whole thing." Nancy said standing up and edging around the bench so she could talk face to face. "Please…if you care about Dave at all, even a little…"

"I can't help you." Christy insisted, her lashes sparkling with unshed tears. "I can't stand up against him."

"Then I was right to think he has something on you too." Nancy said, feeling very sorry for the pretty red-head.

"What, are you happy? That you're not the only one that has a bad past?" Christy spat, tears falling down her cheeks. "I made one mistake…one! And my whole career will be ruined if someone finds out…So no, Nancy I cannot help you and my advice is that if you wanna keep the world from finding out what you did, then you had better follow suite."

"I'm not saying you have to do it alone." Nancy pressed, "Look I know that after tonight, no matter whether we wrestle and I take a fall or whether I don't and he shreds my reputation…I'll never be with Dave Batista, ever again…and I can live with that…" She continued, knowing that it was a lie…she couldn't live with it, she felt as if her chest had been pried open as it was. "But watching someone tank his career through an injury that might ruin his entire future, is something I can't live with…and you shouldn't be able to either."

Christy shook her head fiercely letting the tears fall. "You love him…" She sputtered…She could see it in the way that Nancy spoke, she knew it and yet she was ready to fly into a fit of rage should Nancy actually admit it. "Don't you understand, you're strong, you'll survive if you lose everything. I won't." Her admission was heart rending and despite the angst that had been brewing between the two, Nancy felt fear and disquiet on Christy's behalf.

"We could go to Stephanie right now, or Vince." Nancy tried one last ditch effort and placed her hand on Christy's shoulder. "If we both go and tell them what we know, we could stop this whole thing!"

Christy shrugged off the hand. "No way…He has all the control, he's just too powerful…he even resurrected your slovenly mother from that trailer park and put her in the press box…if he can do that…than he can do anything."

Nancy pulled her hand away as if she'd been scorched and then her face contorted into a mask of misery. "You knew?…" She whispered angrily as hot tears spilled over her lashes. "You knew exactly what he was holding against me and you played along? For Dave? Because you wanted him and that's the only way you could get him?" Nancy had the sudden urge to pound the red-haired Diva, who at present would not even make eye contact.

"He's _too_ powerful." Christy stated, drying her eyes and putting on her bravest face.

Nancy had no choices now other than to take things into her own hands, no one would believe her if Christy didn't back her. "He doesn't have any power unless we give it to him." Nancy reminded angrily and she turned and exited the locker room.


	27. Chapter 26

Uncommon Sense Chapter 26  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else."

**Umberto Eco**, _Travels in Hyperreality_  
_Italian novelist & semiotician (1932 - )_

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Max was having a devil of a time tracking Vicki down…for the past twenty minutes he had searched the entire arena with no sign of the skinny gold digger. Determined to get back so that he could do last minute wardrobe touch-ups and then plant his body behind a monitor to watch Nancy's match, Max trudged along through the stuffy parking garage toward the arena's inner door, carrying the heavy make-up case, having made the decision that he would tell Vicki what he had planned…later.

He passed the WWE bus and was rounding the loading dock for the stairs when he spotted Vicki in a heated conversation with someone whom he could not see. She was standing behind a concrete pillar just to the side of the loading ramp and so before being seen, Max backed around behind the bus, his instincts telling him that something about the whole scenario was out of order. He ducked under the bus and wriggled his outsized body underneath it far enough to be able to see that she was laughing and speaking animatedly with Triple H.

The former 'Champ' was dressed and ready for his match, and even though he was clearly married…he was engrossed in a private conversation with Vicki. It made Max feel nauseous, and as he listened closely he was able to make out some of the conversation.

"I don't have to endure another night with him do I?" Vicki asked, a pretty pout curving her lips.

"Not if all goes as planned _tonight_." Triple H handed her the envelope. "Here's what I need from you…if anything goes awry in the match tonight…if I _lose_, then you're to go straight across the highway to that mailbox and pull the inner insert out of this envelope, and mail it out immediately." He explained. "Don't touch the envelope in here, or you'll get fingerprints on it and then if anyone wants to know who sent it anonymously then all they would have to do is print it and then were both in deep shit. It's already posted, so just open the flap and let the inner envelope slide into the mailbox."

Max watched as Vicki nodded and accepted the folded wad of cash that triple H palmed her. "How long do I need to keep playing it up for Max?" She asked with a whine.

"Until just after I win the match, or in the event she rebels then keep up the charade until this info on Nancy hits the papers, a day at most." Max heard her groan even as his already doubtful heart was breaking. He had suspected that she didn't have feelings for him, but to actually hear her ask how much longer she had to endure him caused his slightly wounded spirit to plummet. "This is going to be a hell of a scandal for her, so if I were you, I'd do my best acting for the next couple of days so you can avoid the McMahon Guns of War, if you catch my drift." He rolled his massive shoulders as he told her. "The board of directors is gonna be pissed and embarrassed over the scandal and so everyone's gonna have to walk on eggshells until after Nancy's gone and they can start damage control." Triple H pointed a finger at Vicki's chest and set his face into a firm glare. "Do _not_ fuck this up! I was at least truthful when I told the bitch I only had one copy of her records…I never made another because it was risky enough walking around with one copy, being as it's supposed to be a sealed court document and not to mention a federal offense if anyone gets caught with it since it was sealed in a federal court…so _do not_ lose it or everything goes to shit."

Max suddenly felt like he might black out and he wasn't sure whether it was from the shock of the information he'd just stumbled on or from the lack of oxygen to his brain due to the constriction of lying on his belly under the bus. At any rate, he felt it imperative that he do something…he had always known that Nancy had a secret…something haunting her, and now Triple H knew that secret, when even _he_…her very best friend had no clue. But Max knew Nancy and their friendship was the truest thing he'd ever had and because of that he loved her more than anyone else in his life. And if could manage to roll his fat ass out from underneath the bus…he had every intention of breaking his promise and sticking his nose right where it didn't belong.

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Dave Batista stood, his back as straight and proud as a ship's mast, and his face etched in stone. Solitarily in the corridor, away from the ramp after having just cut his promo, heart pounding, conflicted and furious. His hands were shaking and unsteady and that pissed him off, being as he was normally solid and sure about everything. He was positive if he could have looked into a mirror that his facial expression would have scared even him. Another producer attempted to approach him in inquiry of Nancy's whereabouts and all he could do was shrug his enormous shoulders and cast a warning glare that sent the producer in the other direction in a hurry. At this point he was unapproachable and that was fine with him.

He watched Triple H and Christy standing at the foot of the ramp and noticed that she cast a lingering glance over her shoulder toward him, as if she wished to catch his eye, but he turned his head and muttered an epithet, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. The door of the wardrobe room swung open and Nancy finally emerged, her features schooled into a defiant stare, one that crumbled into a veiled sadness the minute his eyes locked with hers. He wanted to be furious with her, but he could not…she was beautiful in her new clothes, with her hair down and her shoulders held high, and though she had covered the evidence of her tears well, he could tell by the slight redness of her lower eyelids and because he'd touched her tears in the closet, that she had been crying. But she wasn't crying now, and she set her chin at a rebellious tilt as she came to stand beside him.

"Are you ready?" He couldn't for the life of him be rude. He wanted the words to come out laced with anger and reproach but they refused to.

Nancy nodded, opening her mouth once again to tell him the truth, but he shook his head and grasped her hand. "Later" The word sliced her to the core and he knew it, as soon her face fell, but again he knew that her explanation, her declaration of feelings would mean nothing since they were to be contradictory to her actions in the ring. Dave might have wanted to know…hell it was killing him _not_ to know…because she was what he wanted and he couldn't have her because her heart was attached to a dirty little secret she wasn't willing to part with.

Like always, she straightened her face, stiffened her upper lip and let him lead her to the bottom of the ramp out of earshot of their opponents. "Normally you would come out behind me, but tonight you'll go out ahead of me, under my entrance music, because of the proxy clause." He couldn't stop himself from touching the curls…his hand instinctively wound into the shiny mass. She was bewitching him even now, and his heart faltered as her eyes closed momentarily when his hand made contact with her hair. His jaw clenched mechanically because his own body was betraying his determination to be enraged with her deception. He couldn't touch her again…he had to remain firm in his decision or he would fail himself by not letting her go, no matter what she had done.

"I'll come out behind you…" His voice was thick and he bit his lower lip. "Just remember everything I taught you." He wasn't just referring to her training and she knew it. He saw the flicker of shame in her eyes and he wanted to erase it for her, but he stood solid. "And when you go out there…you keep your eyes _up_..." He told her firmly lifting her chin gently with two fingers, because he had to touch her again…he could not stop himself. "Don't you dare duck your head…you don't have anything to regret."

Nancy felt the harsh blow of his words, despite the calm emotion of his voice and his hand on her face. She could have sworn that his eyes were certain of something when they held hers, but he hadn't wanted to hear the truth from her earlier in the closet, nor even seconds ago…even though she knew he could not have possibly known that she was a fraud. She was sure that if she tried to tell him again, just seconds before they were set to enter the ring, that he would not want to hear it even then. Nancy could not warn him, or save him…and now, the entrance music for Triple H, pumped out so loudly that it drowned out any attempt she might have made to speak.

She felt her body being pivoted by Dave's large hands so that she was on the ramp in front of him facing forward. "Wait until Tina tells you to go." He spoke into her ear to be heard above the music as he pointed to the female producer who was calculating seconds on her watch. "You'll be fine." His voice rumbled, but she wouldn't be fine and he wouldn't either. She nodded, even though she wasn't facing him and felt him squeeze her shoulder one last time.

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Max squirmed his way out from under the large bus and scampered into the arena after he had seen Vicki safely enter moments after Triple H had gone. A quick survey of the halls revealed her in a discussion with another staffer, and Max used the split second as an opportunity to hash out a plan. He had no idea how he was going to get that envelope away from her but at this point he would gladly have choke slammed her in the hallway to acquire it.

"Vicki." Max said brightly holding up the brown make-up bag. He noticed the slight glimmer of annoyance in her eyes that she quickly covered with a cute wink.

"You found my bag!" She squealed with embellished exuberance.

"Well it wasn't hard…" Max admitted, also playing up to her for the benefit of his plan. "I almost fell over it…that means you must have been looking for me." He reached out and tapped the tip of her nose with one finger as if she were a precocious child.

"Speaking of looking…I need you help right now with Victoria in the wardrobe room." He scrambled quickly and keenly for a believable excuse.

"Her make-up's already been done, Max." Vicki insisted when she felt him latch on to her slender arm.

"Well, she had a little wardrobe malfunction and a zipper scratched her cheek, not the one you're thinking of." He shielded his mouth when he spoke as if it were a super risqué comment. "A little blood, but mostly it just needs some damn good cover-up."

"How the hell did she cut her face with a zipper?" Vicki seemed to be buying it, and Max noticed that she held tightly to the envelope in her hands.

"Not _that_ cheek." Max whispered.

"_Oh_…Okay, give me five minutes and I'll be there." Vicki insisted, intent on getting the envelope into her locking make-up cart.

"Gotta go now, Vic." Max tugged her. "Time's money, money's time…" He insisted rapidly, pulling her along before she had a chance to lock the envelope away. "She's in a panic…and she's a big gal…I don't wanna have her mad at me."

Vicki huffed as Max who was without a doubt stronger than she, dragged her around the corner and into the empty wardrobe room. "Well, where the hell is she?" Vicki snapped.

"Well she's probably embarrassed, you know how girls are…I'll bet she's in that bathroom." He nodded nonchalantly toward the small bathroom in the corner racking his brain so that a plan would take shape, and like a blessing from God…one did. He watched as Vicki laid the envelope down on the table and walked to the door of the bathroom. Taking Vicki's irritated obliviousness as his opportunity to strike, he silently pulled the stainless steel hemostats from the open drawer of the caddy and when she opened the door to the bathroom and stepped inside, he was behind her in an instant, soundlessly pressing in the interior knob lock when her back was turned.

"She's not in here." Vicki said irritably, as she snapped on the light switch.

Max gently allowed the door to close behind her and then sliding the slender pointed tip of the hemostats into the access hole for the door lock, he snapped them off, lodging the tip in the lock's cylinder and preventing any escape for Vicki.

"Max, the door won't open." Vicki said in a panic, jiggling the knob. "Max!"

"What did you do?" Max asked innocently, rattling the door from his side for effect.

"I didn't do anything!" She blasted. "Get the door _open,_ Max!"

"Okay…" A wicked grin spread across the canvas of his face. "I'm gonna go get help!" He stifled an incipient chuckle as he flipped her off from his side of the door. "I know you like music..." Max said turning up the small stereo that he'd been bringing to pass the time without Nancy. "So I'll just leave this on for you just in case it takes awhile…and don't worry I'm gonna go get the maintenance man."

"Hurry dammit!" Vicki hissed, stomping one booted foot, half terrified because she was locked on the other side of the door, separated from the very thing that Triple H had trusted her with.

"I promise Baby, I'll hurry." He falsely cooed, picking up the envelope and a handful of paper patterns, along with a door sign as he swept out of the wardrobe room. Before taking off down the hall he slapped the sign on the door just below the word Wardrobe and then turned on his heel and retreated, hell bent for leather. The sign read: _Diva Fitting In Progress…Do Not Enter._

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"Ladies and Gentlemen…" Lillian Garcia spoke into the microphone as she stood in the center of the ring. "This match is another RAW innovation, from the mind of Eric Bischoff." She furrowed her brow as she read from the card he had given her prior to the beginning of the match. "This match will be for the World's Heavy Weight Championship…it is a ladder match, whereby the only way to win is to retrieve the belt suspended high above the ring. However, neither the champion nor the challenger may claim the belt. The belt may only be acquired by proxy, meaning that the tag partners of the champion and challenger are required to retrieve the belt for their respective tag partner."

Christy heard the announcement, along with the scathing warning in her ear from Triple H. She could remember Nancy's words. _'He only has power if we give it to him' _ Christy shrugged off the reminder, telling herself that it was only something that scared people say just to feel braver, but it wasn't true. Certainly no one ever gave him the power to dredge up all of the dirt he had, and he'd not had a bit of trouble wielding the command necessary to do that. His contacts and influence were too far reaching and he had an endless supply of minions helping him carry out his demands, but on the bright side, at least he had rewards for unquestioned obedience. Christy would have Dave after tonight and that was repayment enough, even though she knew it was a bittersweet victory because she would always be his second choice.

Triple H's entrance music hit and she was cued by the producer along with a firm shove from Triple H himself. It was now or never, how fitting a song it was…because they were _all_ his puppets, all playing _his_ game.

"Introducing the challenger and his tag team partner, at a combined weight of 365 pounds…Triple H! And Christy Hemme!" Lillian said as Christy pranced down the ramp, a smug yet focused Triple H bringing up the rear. Christy entered the ring with all of the confidence she could muster, her bright and wide smile belying her wicked intentions.

Triple H entered with his usual water spewing hoopla and an air of victory though the match had not yet ensued. His mind was eagerly kicking around the idea of gold on his shoulder again…getting one over on his wife, and still staying in the line for the McMahon fortune.

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Behind the curtain, a war of emotions were raging in Nancy's mind and standing there, waiting, she had half expected some demonic version of '_Tainted Love'_ to come blaring out of the speakers, cueing their entrance. Her heart was pounding in her ears and when the refrain of the familiar '_Saliva'_ entrance theme commenced, she took a deep breath and the signal from Tina, slipping through the curtain and not looking back.

Dave on the other hand wished he could have called her back…stopped her…told her he knew about her plan, but the loud music made it impossible and his late change of heart was probably for the better. Let her think he knew nothing, let her do what she had to do to keep her secret safe and if it made her a better person at his expense then so be it, because he loved her…the ball was in her court now and there was nothing he could do but stay on his toes and try to avoid getting hurt.

The dimming and flickering of the lights along with a deafening pop from the crowd and mind-blowing pyros discharging in succession took her breath away. She held her eyes up, and walked proudly, even though she knew that the 'face pop' was not for her, as much as it was for him. She entered the ring and stayed close to one corner, as Dave hit all four corners of the ring raising his belt. She knew he was made to do this…there was nobody better suited in her mind.

His heart wasn't in it as he stood on the ropes roaring to the adoring crowd and he handed the belt over to the referee reluctantly, knowing that it might very well be the last time his hands touched it and then watching as it was attached to the hook and suspended above the ring. He noticed Nancy watching that belt too, and try as he might he could not determine what she was thinking. Her face was as emotionless as any he'd ever seen, blank and cold…nothing like the woman he'd made love to last night or any of the nights prior. He released a puff of air and returned the challenging glare from Triple H as the bell was rung and both women began to circle the ring.

The two equally sized women locked up with a force that surprised Dave. Nancy began on the defensive as Christy tried to out leverage her and pulled her into a headlock right off the bat. Nancy's proximity to the corner was a concern for Dave because he knew how often Triple H put his hands into a match even when he wasn't the legal man, but Nancy managed to shoot out of the headlock, putting Christy into a reverse hammerlock. Both women were managing just fine and despite the minimal amount of training and the fact that she hadn't wanted to wrestle in the first place, Dave noticed that Nancy seemed completely comfortable in her new element. It was as if someone or something else had taken her over…he'd noticed it the minute she had come out onto the ramp. It was ironic, because she looked as if she'd been wrestling for years, she was a natural and she would rather stitch a rip than set foot in a ring.

In less than a minute, Christy was tagging Triple H's hand, but before the two of them could double team Nancy, Dave slipped between the ropes and delivered a hellishly painful clothesline to Triple H and a warning glimmer in his eye that told Christy she'd better get out of the ring. Dave was on guard for the well anticipated knee shot and managed to have a near miss in the first few seconds of the encounter. Triple H came flying back from an Irish whip with a clothesline that put Dave to the mat, and then his massive booted foot came down in an attempt to stomp directly on the kneecap before Dave could even get up. But forewarned was forearmed, and he managed to move his leg in time to spin around and engage a modified drop toe hold.

Nancy watched from the corner as the two men battled with precision and brute force. Several times she could make out the attempts to take Dave's leg out and each time, surprisingly Dave was able to avoid it…almost as if he had known the intent. A forceful whip into the ropes along with the weight of Christy tugging when the ref's back was turned, sent Dave flying backward over the top rope and onto the floor. Triple H exited the ring and began his assault with another attempt at the knee, rebuffed by Dave who now appeared to be immensely frustrated with the whole thing.

Dave had to admit that after a good few evasions of injury, that the entire match was something akin to guarding your groin from a bat-wielding two-year old. Finally, slamming Triple H's head against the Spanish announce table and following it with a power bomb, flattening the table entirely, he incapacitated Triple H long enough to concentrate on getting the ladder, which was too heavy for either woman, into the ring. He had his doubts about whether Nancy would actually traverse it, having heard her plan to take a fall, but at present she was fighting outside of the ring to get Christy, who had landed an illegal cheap shot, off of her back.

Nancy dropped to her knees on the outside of the ring, and despite the pain she knew it would cause for Christy, she hauled her over in a snap mare on her back, and then dragged her by the hair to her feet and rolled her by her breeches into the ring. "We can stop this." She whispered as she rolled into the ring beside her, preparing to scale the ladder as soon as Dave had it standing and could tag her in. No response from the red head other than a wobbly roll to her feet and a hard slap across Nancy's face. Both women, who then became tangled into a mat rolling brawl, were separated by the ref and commanded into the corner, since neither woman was legal.

The ladder was standing tall and Dave eyed Nancy to weigh her intent, but again, other than the stone glaze of her glittering green eyes, there was nothing in there that he could grasp. He tagged her in and watched in surprise as she blasted to the other side of the ring, dragging Christy through the ropes before she even had a chance to enter. A mistake, as she was promptly rewarded with a kick to the stomach, and a twist of fate, which landed Nancy onto the mat. Christy then began to climb the ladder, one rung at a time. It might have very well been all over, had not the ref walked in front of Nancy when he did. Cleverly, Nancy kicked the referee in the backside, causing him to fall forward into the ladder, tipping it over and dumping Christy directly over the side of the ring and into the waiting arms, of Triple H who had just managed to regain his equilibrium.

Instead of losing his new found balance and falling, he growled and caught Christy with ease, rolling her back into the ring under the bottom rope, just in time for her to stand and deliver a kick to Nancy's lower back sending her to the mat. Christy rolled Nancy over as soon as she saw that her partner was engaging Dave from the other side of the ring. Christy knew that as soon as a successful knee shot was delivered, that she was to be ready for her finisher, but the ref was giving her subtle cues as to when she should allow Nancy up the ladder and in Christy's frustration she executed a very ill timed, purposely fouled elbow drop, catching Nancy's rib full on.

Nancy remembered having the same feeling from the Lionsault and she breathed out just before being hit. It was probably the only thing that saved her from having a cracked ribcage.

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Max replaced the envelope in it's original position on the table and then stepped back out into the hallway. "Listen, get her out of there and just tell her that her boyfriend went around the corner to get her some water…or some other bullshit like that…" Max explained to the Maintenance Man. "Feel free to take your time…she is after all, in a bathroom so she's got pretty much everything she needs except for food." He joked.

The man laughed and nodded, entering the wardrobe room behind Max, who was bent on reassuring her that she was safe. "Sweety?" Max called out.

"What the fuck is taking so long?" Vicki's voice was a shrill and irreverent howl.

"Baby, I had to find the janitor, he was taking care of some other things." Max was sickened by the need to speak to her in a coddling tone, but if she could put on an act, then by God he could too. "But he's here now so he'll get you out!" He shouted above the blare of the radio, and then gave the janitor a thumbs-up sign and walked swiftly out of the wardrobe room amidst a flurry of angry comments from Vicki.

Out in the hallway, he began to run, eager to find a monitor so he could check on the match that had already begun. Skidding around the corner, almost losing his balance entirely, he came upon a small crowd of wrestlers and other staffers, who were blocking the only available monitor with their bodies. He wedged himself through the crowd uncaring of the frustration he created. "Excuse me." Max said politely, but was regarded with a less than amicable gaze by Chris Jericho/Irvine who had planted himself solidly between the monitor and Max.

"Dude…" Max began holding his hands up in friendship. "I just wanna watch too."

Chris considered the comment and then with a smile that didn't quite reach his lips, he stepped aside and made room for him.

"Thanks." Max said still trying to catch his breath. He glanced at the monitor just in time to see Nancy come flying off of the ropes and catch Christy's leg in the middle of a spinning heel kick.

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Nancy held the one leg and kicked the other out from under Christy, watching her land flat on her back. She knew for certain that even if you landed right, it took months for bumps to stop hurting and so each fall she inflicted brought her closer to her goal of breaking Christy down. Christy winced, as Nancy grasped her leg and planted a Figure Four leg lock on her, one she had learned by watching Ric Flair when Dave hadn't been around. The object was not to get her to tap, but rather to keep her still long enough to try to elicit her aid in putting a cease to the plan. "Help me." Nancy begged, applying pressure to the leg, an attempt to get her attention through pain.

"I can't!" Christy demanded, reversing the leg lock and then after a moment of selling, Christy let Nancy up, whipping her into the turnbuckle to an eagerly awaiting Triple H who slid the tag rope around Nancy's throat and gave it a less than friendly tug. Christy began to distract the referee while Nancy was receiving the choke along with another verbal reminder to behave from Triple H. He tightened the rope, despite her wriggling and whispered fiercely in her ear, "Be nice! Mommy's watching." He released her as soon as Dave Batista bounded into the ring to her aid. The referee had quickly estranged himself from Christy and stepped in Dave's way

Dave could clearly tell from the red mark around her slender neck, that the choke had been deliberate…and real and the fact that she was on the mat catching her breath told him it wasn't just a sell. He obeyed the ref, turning to retreat to his corner, but when Dave saw the referee move out of the way, giving him a clear shot he stepped over the top of Nancy, driving his elbow directly into Triple H's chin, sending him off of the apron and onto the floor. That elbow in the face was without a doubt just as deliberate and real as the choke had been and as Dave leaned down to help Nancy to her feet, Christy who had all the time in the world to climb the ladder, stood like a stone paralyzed by her jealousy as well as her obedience. She knew that she was not to ascend the ladder until after the injury or someone in the back would have her head, being as she and Triple H were supposed to have been _under_ for the match.

Nancy stood to her feet, shaking off the haze and catching her breath. She wanted to answer the question in Dave's eyes, but instead, she brushed past him and snatched Christy by the back of her red head. She pulled the long tresses with true force and hauled her up, putting her in a sleeper hold. Both women were nearly the same size, so it wasn't difficult for Nancy to keep good leverage. It was an easy move to recover your strength during, a great way for her to get close enough to speak so no one could hear and the crowd loved it. Again her objective was to wear Christy down emotionally…to play on Christy's obsession for Dave, in order to gain her help, and if that didn't work…she was just going to flat out kick her ass.

Whispering harshly in Christy's ear, after another sharp reminder from the ref to speed things up. "Don't wait on him again!" Her words were rough as she warned Christy. "The next time you have a chance like that, get your ass up that fucking ladder, so we can be done with this." Nancy had given her every opportunity to take the belt without waiting for Triple H to inflict the injury, but Christy was clearly loyal to the end. Nancy knew that Christy would wait for the knee-shot, because that was what he had demanded of them both.

Dave watched Nancy release the sleeper and throw Christy to the mat by her hair, another opportunity for Nancy to climb the ladder that would slip by, no doubt. Nancy had ignored every verbal cue that the ref had given and Dave could tell that the young man was incensed.

Triple H too, was filled with fury as he watched Nancy's repeated efforts to employ Christy's aid. He hadn't heard the exchange between the two women when Nancy had locked her into the sleeper, but the icy set of Nancy's jaw as she spat out her spiel sent a nervous tremor coursing through his body. Picking up the sledge hammer that he'd tugged from under the skirting when Dave had planted his elbow, he stalked around the ring prepared to make another crack at the Champion's knee.

Dave made no effort to cheer her on toward the belt…he knew she wasn't in it for the win, she was in it to save her own ass. He wasn't sure what horrible threat she had given Christy when she'd latched onto her seconds ago, she seemed to be urging Christy to do something for which Christy obviously had no intent. Dave could see that Nancy was tired and relentless in her effort to play some sort of mind game with Christy. He reached his hand over the rope in an attempt to make a tag that Nancy had not initiated, when suddenly he felt the explosive force of a solid object in the upper portion of his calf muscle. The blow was painful, and apparently meant for his knee, but the action of him coming up onto his toes to try to make the tag, a millisecond after the hammer was swung saved the back of his knee from snapping forward and causing a ligament tear.

The blow forced him off of the apron and down onto the floor where, for the umpteenth time of the night, he found himself dodging blows meant to lame him. The hammer came within inches of his shoulder and slammed into the steel steps with a bone crushing thud. The noise caught the attention of both women in the ring who were engaged in battle.

Nancy felt her heart plummet when she saw that Triple H was ushering Lillian off of a chair so that he could fold it and use it as his weapon. The distraction put her at a disadvantage to Christy, who used the opportunity to pull Nancy down to her back with two handfuls of hair. She did this to prepare for the climb to the top turnbuckle, Nancy knew it, and so did Dave, who for the first time in the match was able to fully determine the exact instant when the deathblow would come. And come…it did.

Triple H watched Nancy stand to her feet before he dealt the blow, he wanted her to see it, wanted her to know the price of her secrecy. Bringing the chair down in a jabbing motion, along with a primal roar, engrossed in the look of terror on Nancy's face, Triple H connected. He listened to the vocal confirmation of pain and then turned to watch as Dave slumped to the floor on all fours.

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Vicki Stormed out of the bathroom the instant the hinge pins were removed, allowing the Maintenance Man, who appeared confused by the sharp metal object caught in the cylinder, to remove the door entirely.

"It's about damned time!" She body-checked the man and swept down on top of the envelope which was thankfully still on the table and apparently untouched. It didn't surprise her that it was still there along with her heavy brown alligator case. Max was a buffoon and too dim-witted to have even given the envelope a second thought. She hugged the envelope to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief…the last thing she needed was to screw this up and have her skeletons parading through central park, along with Nancy's.

She stalked out of the wardrobe area and down the hall to lock the envelope up and find a monitor so that she could carry out Triple H's wishes as soon as the match was over.

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Dave had anticipated well and been rewarded with the arrogant ignorance of the former champion who chose to look away when he struck instead of verifying his target. The blow landed agonizingly in the lower quadriceps muscle rather than in the knee and though the injury would likely cause a hell of a lot of bruising and knotted muscle tissue, he would not be out of commission. But still, Dave was smart enough to know that he had to sell the injury and sell it well or else he would be avoiding body shots for another half hour and so he held onto the knee and stayed on the ground, making it as believable as possible. From his vantage point he dared to look at Nancy…he had to sell it for her benefit as well, but the fear and distress on her face when she saw his predicament could not have been manufactured and he had half a mind to tell her it wasn't real. Nancy's green eyes filled instantly with tears and at that very second Dave realized that she had been having second thoughts about her forced sedition all along.

He had done it…had done what he said he would do. Put Dave out of commission, and Nancy hadn't been quick enough to get up and get out of the ring to help him. And now, Triple H was giving her the look that told her to follow through to fruition, and Christy was climbing the turnbuckle for her finishing move…Nancy knew then that she had nothing more to lose…he was already hurt, already through with her. Christy would never relent, never help, because she was too afraid to revolt…and for once in Nancy's life it occurred to her that she was the one holding the power now, without Nancy the plan would fall flat and since Christy wouldn't help her, then maybe Nancy could help them both.

From the floor Dave saw the conflict flicker through her eyes, the wheels spinning, as if it played in slow motion, though it all happened in mere seconds. Dave watched as Nancy looked him in the eyes, a glance that seemed to say she was sorry, and then she turned her eyes on Triple H. Their gazes locked and clashed. Dave's blood ran cold when her face became devoid of expression, as she regarded Triple H. He saw Christy ascending ever closer to the top turnbuckle, and as soon as she leapt, he saw the slight dip of Nancy's shoulders as she shifted her hip and snapped her leg up and out. For someone with impeccably bad timing, her aim and timing could not have been better. The kick connected directly at the adjunct of Christy's collarbones causing her body to pivot backward in midair. Christy landed directly on her back with a force that rattled her cage, stole her breath and left her unconscious, but otherwise unbroken. Had the kick landed even three inches higher, it would have cracked her windpipe.

As soon as Nancy saw Christy hit the mat, she leaned over her unconscious body and whispered. "Sorry, darlin'" and she truly meant it. A quick glance over her shoulder to look at Dave, and then she scurried up the ladder amidst an arena full of loud cheering, grasping the belt with both hands and pulling it from the hook. Her future with Dave…with the company…with everything she held dear, might be over after tonight, but at least she had done what was right. She held the belt up in the air and smiled…not missing the grin that spread across the face of the injured Champion on the ground.

His heart puffed up with pride for her, for himself…because she had executed a kick he'd thought she couldn't do, because she hadn't betrayed him, because whatever her secret had been…she was willing to risk exposure just to prove to him she wouldn't be disloyal to his trust. The sight of her on the ladder with his belt above her head, the bell ringing in the background was the last thing he was aware of, before the steel chair connected with the top of his head sending him into a dark fog.

Triple H snarled, as he slammed the chair onto the ground and slid back into the ring. He was bordering on homicidal and prepared to snap her neck with his bare hands. Nancy scrambled swiftly down the ladder, praying that she would be able to get out and get to Dave before Triple H got his hands on her, but he was as fast as he was huge, ripping the belt from her hands, tossing it down and wrapping his fingers around her throat and into her hair.

"You couldn't do it could you?" He growled. "You couldn't obey one tiny little command…You had to go and play hero." He hauled her around the ring, his hands tightening painfully around her throat and then he pressed her back into the ladder, despite the ref's quiet verbal insertions, telling him that this was not part of the after match interaction. He swatted the referee out of the way, sending him to the mat.

"You only thought you went through hell before…" He shook her and then slapped her, playing up not only for the crowd who assumed it was part of the show, but for the benefit of stirring up the fear that she was not yet exhibiting. "You're a murdering, lying bitch, and tomorrow morning, every newspaper on the east coast is gonna know what you did."

Nancy hung onto his hands to keep from falling as he yanked her around like a rag doll. "And I'm not through with you yet…" He wrenched her against the turnbuckle.

Nancy pushed at his arms, and through clenched teeth she retorted. "You can't do anything to me that hasn't been done." And then in true rebellious fashion, she filled her mouth with saliva and then spit directly in his face. The crowd went wild…and then so did he. His eyes glazed over with hate-filled intensity and then in his crazed state, he dragged her from the corner and brought her to the middle of the ring. He may not have the belt but he still had another card to play in another realm, and _she…_ still had a bad shoulder.

Triple H pushed her head down between his legs, easily overpowering her attempts to stop him and then with all the force he could muster, he wrenched her arms up behind her back. The shoulder separation was audible and he delighted in the scream that rolled past her lips…it brought him instant satisfaction, and even as her arm was limp and disconnected in his forceful grasp, he dropped her in the Pedigree.

The excruciating burst of pain seared her from the joint to the tips of her fingers and beyond. She knew immediately what it was and before she could even estimate the damage, she was being slammed face first into the mat. Another explosion of pain jolted through her body like a shockwave when the shoulder was jarred upon impact and thousands of sparkling points of light dancing across her eyelids preempted an unwelcome slumber. The logical part of her brain told her that she should allow the darkness to take her and relieve her of the pain, but the childhood instinct of biting the inside of her cheek to keep from passing out took over and she reemerged from near unconsciousness. He was gone and though she knew she was free, she dared not move in anticipation of more pain.

Blood was dripping down his forehead from the deep gash at his hairline, and though Dave had come around and seen little more than her face connecting with the mat…he had heard her scream somewhere deep in his darkened, chair-induced haze. He raised himself up, prepared to exact violence on Triple H, but he had already dragged Christy to the ramp and was giving her a verbal lashing. As it was, Nancy was lying completely still, face down in the ring, her arm at a wickedly odd angle and all he cared about was getting to her. His leg was sore, but steady and he hopped onto the apron, rolling under the bottom rope and approaching her body.

The referee was already calling for trainers and medical help, as Dave reached out, unsure of how he should touch her for fear he might wound her further. He leaned over her, pulling the curls out of her face and getting a good glimpse of her pained expression. He should have listened to her, should have let her speak and then he could have prevented it all, but his pride and stubbornness had gotten in the way. He pulled her over onto her back, stabilizing her arm as best he could, despite her cry for him to stop. And he held her there on his lap as he had the first time he had come to her rescue in the same ring.

Her eyes found his as his thumbs grazed the tears away. "I'm sorry." She cried as she spoke, hardly able to get the words to pass her lips. She wouldn't have blamed him if he had left her there to fend for herself. "Your knee…"

"Hush…later." He told her, "He didn't get the knee and I'm not going anywhere." He was reassuring her as best as he could until the trainers could get in the ring. Her arm was lax against his leg and it made him want to vomit, but he acted as if she were in perfect condition, for her benefit…and his own. "Be still."

She closed her eyes, relieved that he wasn't badly injured, as the familiar throb of the dislocation set in…she could remember it well, though it had not happened in ages. "I did that kick." She whispered, trying not to cry.

"It was perfect, too." He began to laugh, as he held her and brushed another tear off of her face. His throat was constricted with a lump as he spoke calmly to her. The trainers and referees converged on the center of the ring and he reluctantly had to let her go.

"Oh, yeah…that shoulder's out." He heard one trainer say, "Let's just get her to the back."

The team opted for a stretcher rather than try to get her up and walking, but even that was tormenting to watch. They pulled her arm against her body, amidst her groan through clenched teeth and rolled her onto the stretcher.

"We're gonna fix you up, sweety." The trainer told her as Dave watched her lay there her eyes still closed as if she was desperately trying to find a peaceful place somewhere, a type of meditation in the midst of the crisis.

"Get a bandage on him, Tim…that needs stitches." The trainer pointed toward Dave who was bleeding heavily from the laceration on his forehead.

The crowd who had become almost silent began to clap in respect as the group left the ring bound for the back.

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	28. Chapter 27

Uncommon Sense Chapter 27  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

THIS CHAPTER AND THE CAMEO, IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF EDDIE GUERRERO. GOD BLESS YOU EDDIE!

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"In the absence of love, there is nothing worth fighting for."

-_Elijah Wood_

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Her perfectly manicured fingernail scraped the blue metal of the United States Postal Service box, as she fumbled with the lid, struggling not to touch more of the package than necessary, and allowing the inner envelope to slide in. Now it could only to be recovered by a postal employee the following morning when the mail would be taken out.

"Thank God that's done." Vicki muttered as she tossed the outer envelope in a trash receptacle several feet away. She hugged her sweater around her thin frame to abate the slight chill and gave silent praises that her segment of Triple H's plan had gone off without a hitch. And it seemed as if Christy's had as well…no one could deny that Nancy had revolted though…and Christy would definitely have gotten the upper hand had not Nancy decided to ram her foot into the petite Diva's chest. She subconsciously ran her fingers over her own collarbone, grimacing at the pain she knew Christy would likely have to endure the next morning if she wasn't nursing a wound already.

Vicki had unfortunately missed most of the aftermath of the match, having gone straightaway out of the arena and across the street, to mail away the documents the moment the belt had been retrieved. She was certain however, that Batista would be contacting a damn good knee surgeon within the hour and that Nancy would not likely have gotten away without some sort of in-ring tussle with Triple H. Vicki could only guess the degree of fury that Triple H must be feeling this very minute and she was thankful that his cannons wouldn't be trained on her.

Slipping back into the parking garage, having resolved to tell anyone who might have wondered about her whereabouts, that she had gone around the corner for food again was a bad idea, being as she currently had none in her hand. Perhaps, she should just tell anyone who asked to go to hell. She was a few thousand dollars richer after being paid for her duties tonight alone, not to mention the amount of money she'd racked up by being pimped out for Triple H's interests, and so she really didn't give a damn what anyone else thought.

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"I did everything you asked me to!" Christy blubbered, her cheeks and eyes swollen with tears, as she held an ice-pack against the front of her chest. And she _had_ done everything to the letter…even though several times during the match she had been solicited by Nancy to do otherwise.

"I just can't help wondering what it was she was constantly telling you…or asking you." Triple H, eyed the auburn-haired beauty with curious amusement. "Do you mind giving me a clue as to what that was all about?"

"I told you!" Christy nearly shouted. "She asked me to help her prevent you from hurting Dave, and I didn't…I did what you told me to." She leaned her head back against the wall, letting the tears drip down the sides of her face. Nancy had been the dissenter in this entire plan, and thank God for that…despite the searing pain in her collarbones, she owed Nancy a debt of gratitude…because in her rationale and her need to do the right thing, she had ended up saving Christy's ass. Christy couldn't deny that Nancy had known that as long as she was unconscious, she could never have been blamed, for allowing Nancy to win the match…not by anyone and certainly not by Triple H. It had been a painful favor and one that Christy hadn't deserved.

Triple had to consent to the fact that she had followed his demands right down to the very second she had been on that turnbuckle…she couldn't have known that Nancy would take her out of the game. Hell, he hadn't completely bargained on Nancy's loyalty to begin with…but never had he banked on her love or her pity being channeled into a rebellion that would slam a monkey wrench in his plan. Despite the glitch, her reputation was about to be ruined and he still had a few more tricks at his disposal, yet. He smiled, coming out of his reverie, "That _was_ a hell of a kick…" He nodded suitably impressed, despite the fact that he had lost his only possible chance at a rematch for the remainder of the time that Batista held the belt.

"You're telling _me_." Christy grimaced and continued to hold the ice pack to her chest. She felt a measure of relief because he seemed to be unreasonably calm in spite of his loss and in spite of the fact that his intended injury had not hit its mark…had not done the damage to Dave Batista that he'd planned. "You promised me that you'd give me all of the copies of the tape once you were satisfied that I obeyed you…are you?" She placed her palm flat on her knee, praying that he would agree and hand them over.

"Indeed I did say that…" Triple H smiled and with fluid ease, reached into his bag, withdrawing from within another mysterious manila envelope that housed yet another envelope addressed to a major east coast news publication. Obviously he had been prepared to expose whoever turned on him. "Here's your prize." He handed it over, watching her greedily snatch it up, tossing the ice pack aside. She tore into the envelopes with icy, naked fury, retrieving the tape and ripping the black magnetic strands from it mercilessly. Christy didn't call the matter finished until she had set the whole mess of it on fire inside of the metal trash can in Triple H's locker room and watched it quickly shrivel into a singed disarray of ashes and plastic. She then fell onto her knees in front of the trash can, buried her face in her hands and sobbed…the sheer knowledge of how close she had come to losing everything overwhelming her.

"You're welcome…" Triple H laughed callously.

"My _prize_ was supposed to have been _Dave_…and now that he's not injured, I'll never get the two of them away from one another."

"Whipping boy…" Triple H tossed the remains of his wrist tape into the trash.

"What are you talking about…can't you ever just make anything clear?" She was beginning to feel much braver, now that the tape was smoldering in the trash can. "You always just skirt around the issue."

"See that's the thing about bad shoulders, Christy." He said stuffing his trunks into his bag. "Once they go out, then they're never quite as strong as they were before…don't you think that's why I did what I did in the ring tonight?" He shook his head in disbelief at the difficulty that Christy had in understanding simple strategy, no wonder she had been so easy to manipulate. "I knew all along that she had a bad shoulder and I planned all along to exploit that old injury if she failed me." His lips twisted into a cold smile. "If she's hurt, then don't you think _he's_ hurt…he's in love with her…his focus is out of kilter…he's messed up and you could see it all over his face as soon as he came out of his daze."

"But you mailed those documents away and now he'll find out and leave her, right?" Christy said with a bittersweet regret pooling in her belly. She had wanted to be with Dave, yes…but not as his second choice

"Yes he will, and he'll be kicking himself the entire time, even though he knows he made the right decision…because he loves her…the whole thing's bound to destroy him on a few levels at least…" Triple H smiled thinking of his trump card. "And then that's when I'll swoop in and implement the final stage of my plan."

"There's more?" She could hardly believe her own ears and she couldn't help but wonder who else would be dragged into the mess by past indiscretions.

"There's always more, Christy." He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Did you actually think that I would put everything on the line and not have a back up plan?" He pulled his shirt on and turned toward the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find Mommy Dearest, and make sure she has a ride to the hospital."

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The gurney rolled rapidly down the arena hallway past curious and pitied looks from other wrestlers who currently were in a state of angry unrest after what had just transpired in the ring. Max was no less furious and terrified as he rushed the gurney from one side, his hair sticking straight up and his disheveled clothing still evidencing the black brake dust acquired from his adventure under the bus.

"Nancy!" His voice was panicked and trembling, his eyes riveting furtively from her arm to her pallid face. "Oh God, please be okay." He was in near tears when she opened her eyes and rolled her head to the side to see him. Her arm, though held close to her body by a rolled up towel, was clearly not in top shape and he resisted the urge to pull her off of the stretcher and carry her to safety. As it was, the gurney was moving fairly fast toward the locker room and he could barely keep up. "Stop rollin' the God damned thing, so I can talk!" He growled furiously through his tears, glaring with menace at the trainers and then leaning down, he whispered in her ear. "I stuck my fat ass in the big middle of a place I don't belong…and I don't care if you get mad…" His tears fell on her throat as he hugged her, on the verge of weeping…feeling relief when her free hand came up to squeeze the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I couldn't get there fast enough to stop him…I tried…" Max said referring to his attempt to get through the curtain and being restrained by security. "Everything's gonna be okay…I promise…you just have to trust me." He whispered and then he rose up sniffling and met Dave's stare of pity. "Please take care of her…I can't go in there…and see…I can't be in there when they…" Max's voice broke.

Dave nodded in understanding and compassion. He wasn't so sure that he would be able to stomach watching while they reset her arm either. Dave reassured Max that he wasn't leaving…he knew the two were close, he knew Max was fond of Nancy, but at this moment in time it was more than just attachment…Max loved her. Not in the same way as a lover did, he was sure of that…but nonetheless his love for her was apparent. Max planted a kiss on Nancy's forehead brushing her hair out of the way and after she told him she would be okay, he turned on his heel making a dead bee-line for the wardrobe room.

John Cena appeared from behind the group as the gurney resumed it's trek to the locker room, holding Dave's bag and keys, ever at the ready to help whomever he could, all the while chewing the inside of his cheek angrily.

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Once inside of the locker room, the trainers began to prod and touch the dislocated shoulder in an attempt to assess the damage and that's when Nancy began to panic. Her breathing escalated in fearful anticipation of the pain she knew would come with the relocation of the joint into its socket. Suddenly she was reaching frantically between two trainers with her free hand, in search of the hand she knew she would find…strong and sure, there to steal away the terror. And it _was_ there, grasping just as eagerly for hers in an attempt to soothe her anxiety, Dave stepped between the trainers and in warm liquid tones, he told her to close her eyes.

"Nancy, just be still if you can, okay?" The head Physical therapist, Spencer Whiles spoke and then watched her nod hesitantly. He then gave a subtle signal to Tim that he was ready to proceed.

Dave was half panicked himself, a grimace settling on his features as he watched her clamp her eyes shut, her chin quivering. He knew there would be pain and she must have also, for she held onto his hand tightly trying desperately to right her breathing. He bristled when he saw Spencer lift her arm gently, and then press inward on the joint and upward. Her eyes flew open in shock and pain, her body nearly levitating off of the table and her face contorting, as a very unladylike roar ripped past her lips. The shout was followed by a sob and her trembling hand clenching Dave's so tightly that it turned her knuckles white.

"It's not in…I'm gonna have to try again." Spencer bit off a curse and shook his head as he announced it a low voice, but Nancy heard his comment and in alarm, wrenched her free hand away from Dave's grasp ready to fight off a second agonizing attempt. Nancy pushed at Spencer as he readied himself and tried to rise up from her reclined position with frenzied tears and a round of fearful beseeching.

"Nancy…" Dave caught her flailing hand, trying to speak above the din of her words and he held onto it not allowing her to let go. The therapists were spouting medical jargon, trying to reason with her that she must let them try again, telling her all sorts of dangerous scenarios that could occur should the shoulder be left like this for very long. The situation was very quickly becoming chaotic, and it wasn't helping to convince her to lie still. Dave scowled as he put his hand up in impatience, motioning for the trainer to be quiet and then he leaned in closely above her, tracing the line of her brow with his thumb and speaking in hushed tones. "Nancy, listen to me." He began trying to realign her focus…and his…everyone else in the room held no significance to him, it was only the tremulous shaking of her hand as he held it and the trust mixed with pain and fear in her eyes that he cared about. "They have to put your arm back in. It can't be left like this…Hold my hand, close your eyes and be as still as you can…if they can't get it this time then I won't let them try again." And he meant it.

"It hurts…" She whimpered softly. "…so bad." He nodded as he continued to caress her forehead.

"I know…just once more, okay?" He persuaded her gently, never looking elsewhere but in her eyes and not allowing her look away. Dave continued to lean over her, prepared to brace her body should she buck, as Spencer nodded and motioned for Tim to hold her legs down. "Just hold onto me…shut your eyes." He whispered, as the trainer made a second attempt to reset the shoulder, lifting up and then pushing in. There was no violent screaming this time, only the sharp arch of her back as she strained with a strength that surprised Dave. He swallowed deeply and nearly groaned in pity as he held onto her hand, using his body weight to keep her on the table. The sob of the explosive pain that tore from her throat along with her tearful pleas in his ears, begging for him to make them stop, sliced at his heart and he knew that he couldn't allow them to do anything more to her.

"It's not gonna stay in…I can hear bone on bone." Spencer said in frustration…try as he might, the stubborn joint refused to seat itself in the socket. "Either this has happened before or the muscle around the joint just swelled up too damn fast…she's gonna have to go to the hospital...barring any complications, they might just be able to sedate her and put it back in."

Dave nodded, the frown never leaving his face, as his hand continued to hold hers. "Okay." He reluctantly released her hand as Tim prepared her for the ride.

John Cena who had been fidgeting nervously in the corner of the room, unable to watch, stepped forward and began to shuffle articles of clothing into Dave's hands so he could dress as he spoke to the therapist.

"Ideally I'd like as little jarring as possible so we'll just transport her there in the ambulance…non emergency of course…we need to get a hold of her file so we can contact her family." Spencer scratched the pen across his tablet, scrolling some unknown medical text as Tim stabilized the arm with tape, to minimize the risk of tendon damage.

"She has no living family that I know of." Dave explained quietly to Spencer as he glanced at her from his position across the room. Still speaking in a low voice he said, "I'll just ride along." And then turning to John he spoke. "Would you take my rental car and make sure Max gets to the hospital at _some_ point?" He shook his head trying to clear his mind so he could think straight and then leaned in toward John so he couldn't be heard. "Her things are with mine back at the hotel…could you just reserve another day or so, on that room…I have no clue what we're dealing with."

"Not a problem." John nodded his head as he squeezed Dave Batista's shoulder in encouragement. "Whatever you need, man."

"Just mainly, I need Max _there_…I don't know anything about her medical history, and he might. I'm sure the doctors are gonna have a lot of questions, so could you just…find him." Dave leaned over so Tim could apply butterfly tape to his head laceration until he could get stitches.

John Cena nodded, taking the keys in hand and stepping out into the hallway, his anger over the situation threatening to overtake him. "Yep…" He said to himself. "I'll find Max, as soon as I take care of something else first."

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Chris Jericho/Irvine tossed his own bags into the back of his car, sighing in frustration over the escapade in the ring. It had clearly gone too far…it had been somewhat like the match he'd participated in with Nancy. Seeing it on the monitor had given him a definite insight into his own foolishness. It didn't matter whether she had thrown his keys in the trash as Christy had said…_he_ was mature enough to have dealt with it better…his wife had reminded him of that during a recent tongue lashing along with a few nights of being banned to the sofa.

As it stood, everyone who had a basic knowledge of how the business worked could see that what had been done tonight in the ring was over the top…and it certainly hadn't needed to be. Glancing across the garage toward the row of gleaming sports cars, he could clearly pick out the one that belonged to Triple H…the Ferrari 360 Modena…a bright yellow demon on wheels. And evidently, he wasn't the only one who had spotted the car and taken a keen interest in it. At present, he could make out the stocky figure of the recently drafted WWE Champion stalking the mechanical wonder…something long and stout dangling from his hand.

Chris walked forward out of the shadows and the two men exchanged glances…both having appeared to share the same opinion about the bedlam that had just transpired. Chris returned the young champion's knowing smile and held his finger up as if to say 'one moment'…he rounded the back of his Bentley, and popping the trunk he reached inside, his hand finding the cold carbon shaft of his Calloway 9 iron. His fingers wrapped around it and he raised it up in the air, assessing the expensive club with pride and then held the head of it to his lips and blew an imaginary speck of dust off of it.

John nodded appreciatively as he locked gazes with Chris, the two having approached the front end of the spotless, shining, canary-yellow Modena as if it were a downed animal and the two of them pack leaders ready for the kill. John Cena then held his hand out in a gesture of kindness. "Be my guest."

Chris smiled and returned the gesture. "You were here first John…I must insist." His voice was oily, highly schooled and polite...as if he had suggested that John take first turn in a game of chess, rather than initiating the brutal anarchy that the two were currently contemplating.

"Insist on _what_, Ese?" The distinct Mexican drawl of one of WWE's most elite talent, drew the attention of the two men. Eddie Guerrero sauntered toward the men, boots tapping lightly on the concrete floor of the parking garage a slightly reproachful look touching his features, with his bag draped casually over one shoulder. "You're not gonna do what I think you're gonna do, are you?" his accent laced through his question as he tilted his head to the side and motioned to the car with one hand and then to Chris' club with the other.

"Eddie, hi." Chris said nervously, as a small wave of guilt lapped at his conscience. He had almost forgotten about the SmackDown Talent that had attended the joint pay-per-view, so engrossed was he, in the task at hand.

"You know…" Eddie said shaking his head reprovingly and regarding the two men through hooded eyes, "From where I was standing it looked like you two were planning on bashin' up this car…" He grimaced as if the mere thought of the plan had somehow inflicted pain, his tone lifting on the last word of his sentence. "And _this_…" He said running his fingers over the smooth hood. "Is a _nice_ car." He smiled and nodded his head in appreciation of the stunning vehicle.

John Cena, bit his lip and looked away, shuffling the lead pipe behind his back as if somehow doing that simple act would make the pipe invisible. He felt as if he'd just been caught red-handed by the principle after tagging the side of the school building.

Eddie scratched his head and then glancing once more toward Chris' golf club he finally announced. "Sorry, Ese…but I can't let you do it." He shook his head, clicking his tongue in scolding. His eyes held a twinkle as he lifted the trunk lid of the car next to the Modena, tossing his bag inside. "I can't let you ruin a five-hundred dollar golf club, man…What kinda friend would I be?" He looked at Chris as if he should have known better, and then he reached inside of the trunk and pulled out an aluminum baseball bat. "Walmart…$12.99, holmes!" He handed the bat to Chris who smiled, in exchange for the club, hitched his thumb toward the arena door and announced with his trademark smirk, "I'll keep my eye on the door."

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The ambulance rolled peacefully through the streets, no lights or sirens, on its way to the hospital. The EMT, a small slender woman in her mid thirties was currently sliding the metal shaft of an intravenous line into the vein of Nancy's uninjured arm.

"Big stick, Sweety…" She said and found the vein with practiced ease. "I'm just gonna do this now so you don't get stuck by one of those crabby night nurses." She joked, winking at Nancy. "Hurt anywhere else?" The nurse asked, checking her vitals and attaching a pulse-ox monitor on her finger.

Nancy shook her head, but couldn't help but be reminded by those words of the New Mexico hotel room. She shut her eyes and lay still as her body rocked gently along with the movement of the ambulance. Opening them again, she found the nurse, motioning discreetly for Dave to lean over so she could examine his head.

"Couple of stitches…no big deal." The nurse said as she handed him an ice pack which he placed on the quadriceps muscle, just above his knee.

The sight of the already darkening bruise made Nancy want to vomit. How close had he come to a career ending injury because of her lies? She wanted to tell him she was sorry…sincerely…wanted to ask why he was evenstill here, why he hadn't gone on to the hotel and left her to deal with everything all alone. The smallest glimmer of hope still burned inside of her and it flared up when she felt his lips on her brow. He spoke no words, held no air of anger or frustration…she couldn't help but wonder if he had known all along. He had certainly been able to deflect many of the attempts to injure him throughout the match, besides the fact that he hadn't been open to hearing the truth from her…but more than that…it had been the look on his face when she had pulled the belt from the hook. Bittersweet triumph was all she could equate it to…his wounded smile and the relief in his eyes as he had stayed on the ground led her to believe that he _had_ somehow known.

If that was the case, then she had a lot of explaining to do, especially since by tomorrow morning her entire past would be splattered all over the tabloids and other checkout line trash-rags. "Dave…I have to tell you something." She tried again to tell him and again she was gently rebuffed, when he shook his head and encouraged her to relax. "It's important…I have to tell you _now_, because tomorrow it'll be too late." He cut her off.

"I already know…" Dave told her. "Not everything…but I know he's blackmailing you…I know he's probably already mailed everything out, whatever 'everything' is. I knew before the match." He breathed out heavily, another pulse of emotional pain hitting him when he thought of it.

"How did you know?" She might have had a guess as to when he had discovered.

He leaned over her, unable to go very long without touching some part of her, he grazed the back of his knuckles over her cheek. "I knew when I took you in the closet." He whispered, feeling the moisture of a tear on his knuckles. "I meant what I said in there." He clenched his jaw instinctively.

Before anything more could be exchanged, the ambulance came to a halt and the shuffling of bodies forced him to break free from her, leaving her to wonder which one of the many things he'd whispered in the midst of touching her that he'd meant, but he was sliding out of the back of the ambulance and yet _again_, her questions along with her explanations would have to wait until…later.

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Max made a mad dash for the parking garage, with Nancy's bags in tow and a tightly guarded secret folded and stuffed deep inside of her purse, upon which he currently had a frightening death grip. His eyes were swollen along with the walls of his throat, his brain unable to comprehend the magnitude of what he had just been reading. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was willing to exercise the force of a linebacker to get out of the arena and to the hospital all the while protecting her secret.

He swiftly traversed the halls and reached the door in no time, pushing it open with unwarranted force, welcoming the smog scented air that hit him like the blast of a civil war field gun. He had knocked someone out of the way in the process and upon the realization that it was Eddie Guerrero, he swallowed, prepared to apologize. The breaking of glass and the loud sound of metal upon metal brought his gaze up to the sight of two wrestlers venting their rage on a yellow Ferrari.

John glanced up for a split second before bringing the lead pipe down on the driver's side mirror, detaching it from the door in a heart beat. "Be with ya…in a minute…Max!" He said through a grunt of exertion as he swung yet again causing the windshield to spider-web, crackling as soon as the lead pipe connected. "You want a crack at this?" John offered Max as he swung upward destroying a headlight.

"Is this Triple H's baby?" Max asked, walking toward the pandemonium knowing the answer already.

"Yep…" Chris confirmed, slamming the aluminum bat forcefully into the other front headlight, smiling when it shattered. "It is."

"Then, yeah…I do." He dropped Nancy's bag at his feet and turned to Eddie. "Here hold this." He handed the beaded handbag to Eddie, who looked at the purse in puzzlement, but shrugged his shoulders and held it between his thumb and forefinger.

Max's belly jiggled slightly as he walked with furious determination toward the front of the car, accepting John Cena's offer of the pipe. He first bounced the tip of the pipe off of the front grille, watching as it creased mercilessly, and then in a gesture of athleticism that surprised both men, Max jumped onto the hood of the sports car and hammered the pipe repeatedly into the windshield until it gave completely…he was not only spent, but weeping with his anger. Loud curses and threats flew out of his mouth like missiles, as he struck the top of the car over and over again, every memory of Vicki coming to mind…her lies, Triple H's lies and the things he had read in the papers he was protecting…all feeding him for the task at hand.

He heaved the pipe one last time and then let it fall from his hands, bouncing off the badly dented hood, clattering to the concrete. He was weak and saddened and livid, but at least this was some measure of vengeance…even if Triple H would just go out the next day and buy another car.

"Max…" John Cena said calmly as he reached up for him. "Come down Max." He wasn't surprised at the anger Max felt, hell, half of the people that knew Triple H were angry with what he had done. He was, however blown away by the sheer rage with which Max had destroyed the biggest portion of the car. It was as if something inhuman had driven him to it, something else that the other two men had no clue of…something more than just Max's usual propensity to get revenge for his friend. "Come on…let's go to the hospital." John said to the portly man in a friendly, gentle tone meant to clear away some of the tears that he saw falling. Max nodded, palming his tears away and as Chris picked up the evidence of their satisfying vandalism, he approached Eddie who was still holding the handbag and guarding the door.

"Here's your purse, holmes." Eddie said quietly, smiling and patting Max on the back, hefting Nancy's bags into Max's other hand and then helping to usher him into Dave's rental car and get moving himself before anyone else came upon the wreckage.

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Once inside the hospital, the disorder of admittance, the absence of her driver's license and the sheer confusion over nurse's questions about her medical history, that he simply could not answer, had him half tempted to put his fist through a wall. The only answer he'd been able to give with any degree of surety was _how_ she'd received her injury, and only because the referee had told him…Dave was remiss to admit to the doctor that he'd been unconscious when it happened. Nancy had already been wheeled back to an exam room after the doctor's promise that he wasn't going to try to reinsert the joint. He'd been soothing and very reassuring as soon as he'd learned the nature of the injury and determined that she was vehemently against any further attempts to reset it if she had to be fully awake through it.

At the present moment, he was trying to relate the specifics of the X-ray findings to Dave, who was leaning nervously forward on a chair in the waiting room.

"It's only a matter of getting the joint back into the socket, there's no tendon damage and very little soft tissue bruising." The doctor began. "There is however, a fair amount of swelling and some random pieces of floating cartilage…Is she an athlete?"

"No, not…I guess other than a couple of wrestling matches…I'd say no." He lifted his eyebrows in uncertainty.

"Well, I wondered, because after speaking with Spencer Whiles…I'm apt to think this has happened more than a couple of times…the reason I asked if she was an athlete was because of the amount of wear on the socket and rotator cuff and sometimes that's typical in baseball and softball pitchers…men and women both."

"She's not a pitcher." Dave said chewing his lip, holding off a smile when he thought of how she'd had thrown her shoes at the bus the night they'd first formally met.

"I think the best plan of action is going to be to put her under and surgically reinsert the shoulder, scrape the bone so we can get it to bleed and form a new type of cartilage, and then we can remove the floating cartilage…very simple, typical surgery…necessary though, because she won't let me try to put it back in while she's awake." The doctor clicked his ink pen and slipped it into his pocket.

"I knew she wouldn't let you try." Dave said, images of her ready to fight the young doctor off played over in his mind and it made him smile. "When do you plan to operate?"

"Well obviously I'd like to do it sooner than later, but I need a second form of consent…she's being prepped right now on her own consent." The doctor held out the clipboard and slipped his pen into Dave's hand. "This is only in the case of an emergency…or if something goes wrong and someone else has to make decisions. Obviously there's risk in any surgery…but we don't expect complications. So if you could just sign where it says blood relation, next of kin…then I can get started"

Dave rolled the pen in his fingers and shook his head. "We're not married…" He explained.

"That's a problem then." The young physician explained.

That very moment, a young female nurse poked her head out from around the triage desk, having just received word from the O.R. "Doctor Davis, they've administered the anesthesia for your shoulder patient, if you're ready."

"That's a _really_ big problem, then." He turned to Dave, chewing his lip. "Parents?" He offered.

"Her parents are dead." Dave said, trying to think of a way to cajole the doctor into accepting his signature, or a convenient way to scare him into accepting it.

And then like an answered prayer, Max came skidding around the corner hauling a handful of bags on one arm, along with Nancy's purse tucked tightly under the other.

"Is she okay? Did they fix it?" Max sputtered, his face swollen and his eyes jaundiced. "Can I see her?" He looked at the doctor who regarded his shoddy appearance with clear confusion.

Before Dave could answer any one of his flurry of inquiries, the doctor piped up.

"Don't tell me _you're_ her husband." Dr. Davis was just as confused as everyone else and the fact that his team had prematurely administered anesthesia, having been under _his_ mistaken impression that the tall wrestler was her husband, had him rethinking his entire medical career.

"Well, no…why?" Max panicked, practically buckling at the knees. "She's not dead is she?" He croaked.

"No…Max." Dave held onto his arm to keep him from falling. "She has to have surgery to fix her shoulder and she's already under…they have to have a signature from next of kin or they can't operate, can you do that for her?" His words were calm and measured, masking his internal conflict and fear.

"Yeah, yeah whatever…give me the pen." He said shaking off the cloak of dread and grasping at the clipboard in the doctor's hand.

"If you're not her husband, then you're…her…_brother?_" The doctor probed, still confused.

"No, I'm her assistant." Max said wagging his fingers motioning for the doctor to hand over the clipboard.

The doctor, shook his head incredulously. "_She_ has an assistant…how ironic is that…I don't even have an assistant…I'm sorry but unless you're related to her by blood or marriage, or unless you're her power of attorney, then I can't accept your signature."

"Just gimme the damned thing…nobody's gonna sue you!" Max barked furiously.

"Look." Dave began, putting himself in front of Max. He hadn't ever seen the jolly man lose his cool and he wasn't sure that Max might not decided to body slam the doctor, when all Dave was concerned about was getting someone in there to operate before the anesthesia wore off and forced the whole thing to be postponed. "Max, here…has sort of lived with Nancy for a couple of years at least…he's the next best thing to a relative." He offered.

Dr. Davis tilted his head, his mouth popping open. He was more confused about the odd trio than he had been when the cadaver from his med school exam had disappeared when he'd gone to the bathroom…a well orchestrated prank executed by his professor. "Okay, let me get this straight…" He began. "She came here with _you_…but she lives with _him_." He closed his eyes, contorting his face into a mass of bewilderment. "Never mind…I don't wanna know…but somebody's gonna have to sign a 'power of attorney' and get it notarized…and _soon_ because I can't anesthetize her again for 48 hours if this wears off."

"Whatever…I'll write it on a damned cocktail napkin…just tell me what you want me to write." Max pushed past Dave Batista as the doctor directed him to the triage desk.

"Dr. Davis…I have a blank power of attorney, and Cindy's a notary." The tall blonde nurse announced, having listened with sympathy to the conversation. She put her hand on Max's shoulder as she guided his hand to the lines he had to sign, and then smiled at him squeezing his hand as Cindy stamped the paper and put her signature to it.

Dr. Davis snatched it up with a swift "thanks" and instructed the nurse to make the remaining two-thirds of the odd trio comfortable. She was preparing to lead the two men down the hall, to a private room for families whose relatives were in surgery and then turning to Dave, she reiterated that he still needed to have the wound on his head looked at. "After I know she's okay I will." Was his dismissive response.

"Sure thing." The nurse responded, turning to Max to ask if she could get him anything.

"No, thanks." Max refused her offer, in a hurry to seclude himself with Dave Batista so that he could give him the information that he knew he deserved to have knowledge of.

"I'll check on you in a bit." She told Max, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Once inside of the empty room, Dave sank down into a chair and let out an exhausted, frustrated groan as he watched Max fumble with Nancy's hand bag. "What are you doing?" He asked irritably.

"I…have to show you something…but I have to ask you a question before I do." Max said, his hand foraging through the bag. "It's about Nancy."

"Max, I already know that she has something bad in her past…and unfortunately I also know that it's in the mail on the way to some newspaper." Dave said ruefully.

"Not exactly…" Max said rummaging through her bag, his hands clasping around the neatly folded stack of documents that he had earlier commandeered and hidden. "It might be on the way to a newspaper, but whoever opens that envelope's just gonna get a handful of dress patterns." He confirmed. "I overheard…I mean I sort of eavesdropped and then I locked Vicki…I kinda butted in again…anyway." He stuttered and then he held up the papers, his eyes filling with tears. He began to speak, his voice wavering.

"I sort of knew that Nancy had something that she was hiding…I thought…she had bad dreams and she talked in her sleep…" Max explained as he attempted to clear his throat and ducked his head. "But I never thought that it was…this…I mean I wasn't gonna read it but she's my best friend…" His voice quivered. "I was just gonna set them on fire and help her keep her secret without even looking at it, but I'm fuckin' nosey and…I wish I hadn't…"

"You lost me." Dave sat forward, unable to quash the dreadful curiosity bubbling within him. "Does Triple H know you intercepted this?" He asked motioning with his fingers.

"No, and neither does Vicki, and I really don't give a shit." Max said swiping at his tears.

"This is priceless." Dave laughed ironically, softly…Nancy was clumsy, had horrible timing, seemed to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and yet in the past few weeks she'd had more luck thrown her way than anyone had a right to. He couldn't help but think that there had to be some sort divine intervention on her behalf.

"It's really important that you see this…I know she lied to you…hell she lied to me too, but I _know_ if you read it you'll understand." Max explained, but before handing the private documents over to Dave, he had to know. "Do you love her? Because if you don't…then there's no reason for you to see these, and no reason for you to even be here…I'll just take her back to Colorado with me and save you the trouble." Max's face hardened into an uncharacteristic seriousness. "If you _don't_ love her, then I appreciate your efforts but I'll take it from here. This is the only copy and I have no intention of it going anywhere." He was banking on honesty, and he found that he was disappointed at the mere thought of her being abandoned by the Champion. He held the papers up like a torch of illumination, waiting for the answer.

Dave watched the man, his own thoughts and emotions rattling around inside of his soul like sharp tacks. His inner animal, who usually had a sarcastic retort every time he thought of love, remained strangely silent. "What do you think?" He asked lucidly, the seriousness on his face matching that of the man in front of him.

"I gotta know, man." Max told him, holding the papers, unwavering. He required it, had to hear it and believe it or else he would walk right out and burn the papers in the parking lot, cover her indiscretions and take her abuses to the grave without a second thought for the tall champion's feelings.

Dave knew what he'd told Nancy in the broom closet, he could remember verbatim, all of the promises he'd made, he could put an exact physical pain to the emotions he'd experienced when he'd thought she'd betrayed him…he could clearly recall her body's response when he'd told her he loved her mere hours ago…he also couldn't deny the way he had felt when he'd seen her rebel against Triple H's tyranny and lay Christy out cold, so that she could retrieve a belt that meant far less to him than she did.

"I do love her." He said it, and the weight of the world that he had been carrying slipped away as if it had never been there…and though an apprehensive anticipation began to settle in his belly at the thought of reading those papers…he knew that no matter what they revealed, he would never be able to push her to the wayside. He knew he could never call it quits…whatever it was, he would deal with it, because he did love her, no matter how she felt about him.

Max swallowed hard and handed the papers over to Dave Batista, whose muscular hands curled around them. He believed him…and as he watched Dave wander out of the waiting room and down the hall in the direction of the cafeteria, he was sure, that for once Nancy would be glad he had interfered.


	29. Chapter 28

Uncommon Sense Chapter 28  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple."

-_Oscar Wilde_

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For almost two hours he had been reading and re-reading, poring over portions, and skimming over others because he was bothered by what he saw. He'd been subconsciously clenching his jaw the entire time and now it hurt like hell. Half a dozen times, his eyes had brimmed with tears and another half a dozen he'd found himself so angry that he'd wanted to tear the table from it's base and send it flying across the room…but he understood…understood the _whole_ thing. Maybe he even understood better than most… because he had two little girls of his own.

Dave Batista surveyed a dossier of transcripts, news articles, medical records and photo static copies of her life events, a black and white glimpse into her past…a past he knew she regretted. He held between his thumb and forefinger a copy of her birth certificate…no different than any other by it's appearance, but different to him, because it was hers, and because it was information she'd left out of their discussions. She had been born in Blessings Point, Michigan on May 14th, 1974 to Charlotte Elizabeth Rogers and Army 1st Sergeant, John Kinsley Adams. He smiled when he saw that she'd weighed little more than 6 pounds, somehow he'd not found it hard to imagine she'd been born small.

The school transcripts he'd held showed him that she'd been a relatively good student, better in math than the other subjects…it stood to reason, being as she dealt with numbers and fractions on a daily basis…it didn't surprise him, either that she had managed to pull an 'A' in home economics. There evidenced more than a dozen different schools from Kindergarten through graduation, all of them having a disturbing break in the sequence of dates, indicating that she hadn't stayed in any one school for very long.

She'd been part of a track team, for a short time in junior high school according to one of the transcripts, but for less than a season. That would explain why, despite her lack of coordination on occasion, she was so very fast on foot. He could remember her running barefoot in the rain to the hotel lobby the night they'd been caught in the storm on the river walk. Dave leafed through several news articles, latching onto one in particular. '_Local Bakery Owner Killed During Robbery'_, the article entailed a botched robbery in which Nancy had lost her father and been witness to his murder. The black and white military picture of her father that they had used for the article, told him exactly where she had gotten her looks. Another article detailing the same incident, written by another local paper, had shown a snapshot of a crying little girl being carried by a police officer, who was trying to shield her face, with little success, from the camera with his gloved hand. It was a black and white photo, but he had some idea as to what the darkened splotches on the front of her tiny woolen coat had been.

Laying the article face-down, careful to shield it from anyone who might venture into the back part of the cafeteria, he glanced at one other small article, less than an eighth of a page in newsprint with the heading – '_Local Teen Apprehended in Stabbing Death'_. The title had been morbid, but the limited text below it indicated that Eddie Pritchard, Jr. had been stabbed once in the stomach, by a teen whose name had been withheld, and had been found dead at the scene. Though the name had been withheld, Dave knew who it had been.

He skimmed over her juvenile arrest record. It told him she had been a five time runaway. He read every single police report and pieced together a string of events, times she'd run and been returned. It dumbfounded him that the reports had all indicated the possibility of abuse, and yet no one had done anything…the reports were almost all from different states and cities, but all had been ingrained with the same red-flag. She had run and each time she had been dragged back.

The final police report revealed her arrest for homicide. Indicating that she had been found at the scene, had called the police, not for help but to admit that she had stabbed her mother's boyfriend. The officer who had written the report had stated that the victim had apparently 'bled out' on the teen's floor and that the scene indicated possible sexual assault, but that the teen had been unwilling to admit to more than her culpability in his murder. The officer documented wounds he had identified on Nancy by sight, a split lip, a blackened eye and numerous scratches on her neck and shoulders. The report spoke of the volume of blood on the front of the teen's body, apparently from the victim, and of the blood that had been found on the bed in a pattern that suggested the man had been stabbed while on top of her and then pushed off onto the floor where he'd finally expired.

Dave knew what had happened…he wasn't stupid…but what he couldn't figure out was why she hadn't admitted to what he'd done to _her_ instead of carrying her silence and allowing them to cart her away. His question was answered in the documents he pored over next. Nancy had been sent to a county Detention Center and been put under the guidance of a counselor, who had evidently known all the right questions to ask. He glanced over the counselor's detailed reports, reading the confession of a tearful teenager, who admitted specifically to the abuse, had begged the counselor to keep it quiet, had broken down in front of the woman and admitted that she felt safer in her cell than she ever had in the trailer park.

He could clearly tell that the counselor had been trying to build a case for Nancy, through her sessions, so that the court appointed defense attorneys would have something solid to use in her behalf when her trial ensued. He read as she told the counselor about the addictions her mother had become slave to, and the man that her mother had moved into the trailer in the early fall…how she'd been scared of the way he looked at her. Finally after long hours and countless pages of text, she had admitted to the counselor what she had endured, when his leering perusals had become something more.

Along with the report from the medical exam that the Detention Center had forced her to undergo upon her arrival, the counseling session transcripts and Mrs. Masey's testimony had proved to be the deathblow to the prosecution's attempt to keep her incarcerated for life or longer. The old woman had sorrowfully told of how she'd been walking her retriever down the alley when he'd gone after a stray cat in the bushes behind Nancy's trailer and she'd followed, finding herself below the girl's window. She explained how she'd heard the struggle, seen Eddie Pritchard shred the red prom dress with his bare hands and then strike her in the face twice. Mrs. Masey had rapped on the window, momentarily breaking up the violent encounter…she told of how afraid Nancy had appeared to be, how she knew that her own interference might have just made things worse for the teenager.

Mrs. Masey spoke of how she'd raced back to her trailer and called the police, and been told by one of the officers who was familiar with the young runaway that he would no longer take a report involving her. "His exact words," Mrs. Masey told the court. 'We've been out there more times than you can count and found nothing but a lying, rebellious teenager hell bent on causing problems for everyone…Don't call back unless you have a murder to report!' He couldn't have known how prophetic that offhanded comment would be. The jury had dismissed the charges, the police department had narrowly avoided an embarrassing scandal and the prosecuting attorney conceded without so much as a fight.

Nancy's young and eager, state appointed attorney had pushed for her records to be sealed by a federal judge, his petition citing that _'something of this nature would assassinate any future career possibilities and most likely subject her to pariah status if she chose to stay within the current county of her residence'_…and he had been granted that request, posthaste. Her records had been sealed by the federal judge with the promise the she would have a fresh start. Nancy had been released into the custody of the state at the age of seventeen and her trail had gone cold from there.

Dave only skimmed over the medical records, but he knew that tonight had been the fourth time in her life that her shoulder had been dislocated and he suspected that her mother, whom he had now concluded was still alive and kicking, had been undoubtedly responsible for the other injuries. He could understand why she had been afraid for the entirety of her life events to be revealed, something like this had to be humiliating for anyone. He was saddened to think that while other young ladies had been dating and attending driver's education, she had been locked in an 8 x 8 concrete cell, thankful for her solitude.

What he'd been able to determine as an indisputable fact was that the social system had failed her, not because it was horribly flawed, but because it was undermanned and overworked. She had been branded a trailer-park runaway and that stereotype alone put her down in the lower one-third of the food chain in the eyes of the law, even though the police had suspected she was abused…likely it was a result of the fact that she was too afraid to tell anyone what was happening, that resulted in her being swept under the proverbial carpet. And something he knew for certain was that she had been very lucky to have had the nosey Mrs. Masey walking the dog when she had. Yes, he could almost bank on the fact that there was some divine intervention on her behalf. And even though the social system may have failed her, thankfully the judicial system had not.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes in exhaustion and breathed out, stretching his arms. Everything he had read could only give him a foggy glimpse of what had happened…he knew that in order to understand her perspective he would have to hear it from her. None of it had been her fault, he knew that for sure…and true she could have called the police before the man had bled to death…but he knew he would have done the same thing had he been in her shoes. And she could very well have allowed the experience to destroy her life, but she hadn't, she had gone from a shabby trailer park runaway to a striking, intelligent woman, maybe even a little refined despite everything…And like always, he was sure she had stiffened her chin in defiance right in the middle of the crisis and kept going.

Dave was bothered mostly and angered greatly by the fact that she had been exploited, blackmailed and taunted with her past. He didn't have all the facts and that alone made it hard for him to understand why she had been the target of Triple H's fury and sport. He was sure that it most likely had something to do with the fact that Triple H had been on the McMahon leash as of late, every attempt to return to the ring, having been stymied by his wife. She had tried to tell him, he reminded himself…but Dave hadn't wanted to hear her explanation of things, because somehow he'd thought she would say she loved him and that it would be untrue…he hadn't known if he could take that sort of rejection…not from her anyway… and now he felt like an ass.

He'd rebuffed her, though not hatefully, several times…thinking that whatever she'd done, it had been a crime of her own volition…he'd half expected her to have been some sort of corporate criminal in an embezzlement scheme…he should have known better. He owed her an apology in the worst way, but before he could do that, he owed her a favor…and he knew Max would be glad to help.

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Triple H growled with barely leashed fury as he cradled the cell phone to his ear and paused in the hallway just outside of his locker room.

"What do you _mean_ she just got _out_?" He snarled, feeling the instant rise in his blood pressure, his huge, hulking figure casting an ominous shadow over the hallway.

"Sir, I'm sorry…she just kept slurring something about being lied to…something about how she should have known better than to think her daughter would be anything more than a whore…" Phillip Sands, the limo driver stuttered nervously as he wheeled the gargantuan vehicle around the block, to head back in the direction of the arena. "Then she just jumped out at the stoplight and got into a cab…and…she sort of…has the money that you said not to give her until she got to the hospital." The last part of his comment came out almost as an afterthought.

"First of all…I find it very odd that she just managed to get out and disappear into a cab…she was so drunk she couldn't even find her ass with a map! And why in the fuck would she have the money that she's wasn't supposed to have until she got to the hospital…being as she's not _at_ the hospital?" He roared, thinking of the small three-thousand dollar cash incentive he'd used to get her out here from the trailer park to begin with. The money was merely pocket change for him, but he hated the thought that he had been hamstringed by two women who were genetically connected, and both in the same night.

"Well…" Phillip croaked his explanation. "I sort of had to use it to coax her into the limo…she was pissed that her _precious_ daughter…the supposed "_wife"_ of the arena owner…nice lie by the way…had snubbed her and hadn't even come to the press box to visit her all night!"

Triple H resumed his trek down the hall toward the parking garage. "You didn't follow the cab?"

"With this 30 foot monster in down town traffic? Are you high?" Phillip barked sarcastically, "She's probably at the airport by now…she mentioned that earlier when I was trying to get her into the limo." He gunned the limousine and traversed the freeway on ramp. "Just let her go…you already have another plan in the works, you said so yourself. Using the old lady at the hospital was a nice thought, but you still have the news article and that'll hit the papers tomorrow evening or the next day…let it go."

He had to admit that even though several facets of his plan had fallen through, tonight alone, he did still have the news article and he still had one other plan in the works as he spoke. "Maybe you're right Phillip…" He smiled irreverently as his hand made contact with the bar on the door leading to the parking garage. "At any rate, I'll be happy to recompense myself the three grand I'm out, on your next payday." He whipped the door open, laughing as he heard the protests gurgling from Phillip. "Well if I can let it go…then you should…too…" His jaw dropped, along with his bag…and then the cell phone followed, clattering against the concrete. His eyes locked on the mangled remains of his precious Modena. Sitting like a forlorn junk yard trophy and anyone within at least a hundred yards found their ears party to an angst filled roar.

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"Every piece, Max…Nothing gets left." Dave Batista ordered gently as he kneeled on the concrete behind the dumpster, less than 10 feet from a sign in the loading dock that read _'No Smoking By Order Of Fire Marshall, violators may be prosecuted.'_ He twisted each and every document lengthwise, some intertwined with others and lit them on fire one by one, holding each and watching it burn until his fingers nearly caught fire. A few times he cursed when the flames licked at his flesh, and a few times he laughed because it was as much a release for him as he knew it would be for her. And secretly he knew that even though he wanted Triple H to suffer some serious legal repercussions for what he'd done, he knew that in order for that to happen, her past would _have_ to come out…and he wasn't about to let that happen. Watching Triple H become an outsider behind the curtain, and being witness to a speedy reign in on the McMahon leash would have to be sufficient. Respect was everything in this business, and so he knew with a measure of satisfaction that what had happened tonight was going to pit the other wrestlers against Triple H. He would have some serious trouble coming his way in future weeks, from people who had once been his friends…if he hadn't already been the recipient of some difficulty before leaving the arena.

Max was nearly in tears the entire time the two knelt on the concrete, as he helped to incinerate her past, every letter of text, every smudge of black and white. Soon there was nothing more than ashes to contend with, and even those got wadded up in a paper napkin and then scattered into the grease trap behind the hospital cafeteria. Both men knew that nothing could have been gleaned from the ashes, but neither was willing to take any chances.

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_The dream, if it had even been a dream took shape behind the haze of anesthesia. It formed like a vapor that shape-shifted in the wind, and she found herself at the edge of the water again…tossing the bread crumbs at the ducks, with the sound of her father's laughter, like a pleasant song floating in the air behind her. Ever closer, they were coming…those ducks…snapping up the bread crumbs in haste…as her tiny black Mary Jane's scooted back away from their yellow and grey webbed feet. She squealed when one of the braver ducks dared to snap at the crumb in her hand, but her Daddy saved her, snatching her up, and seating her on one of his huge shoulders._

_"Feed them from up there." He laughed and let the eager ducks surround his long legs as the crumbs came showering down from above him, all over his head, his shoulders and the backs of the ducks…_

_…And then she was sitting Indian style on top of the bakery counter holding the huge wooden spoon, with her father's baker's hat at a gaudy tilt atop her Shirley Temple curls. She was giggling and smacking the batter ruthlessly with the spoon, successfully keeping her father at bay with a spray of chocolate. He was laughing again. "Not like that, Nancy!" His huge hands were held up in the air, in front of him acting as a shield. "Stir, don't slap…" He said through his laughter and the saxophone music in the background…_

_…She watched him strap the tree on top of the car giving the yellow rope one last tug, and then he cast a worried look at her mother in the front seat. "Cookies?" He smiled and asked Nancy, and she squealed in delight hugging his leg. "Macaroons, Daddy." She slid into the back seat, a small gouge in the leather, hooking her coat…_

_…Too dark…too dark in here for her Daddy to find the cookies, she thought, her tiny hand slipping over the smooth wall by the door, feeling for the light switch. The men, her father, the noise, a blinding flash of light and the smell of sulfur…too fast for her to know how to help...But maybe if she just hugged him he would be okay, maybe, because saying his name over and again, and shaking him like she did on Saturday mornings to wake him for cartoons hadn't worked. "Wake up." She whispered against his neck, now covered with something warm and sticky, and he didn't, but maybe she could just stay here and hug him awhile…maybe then…_

_…Her lungs were nearly bursting, the burning pain of exertion as her legs pumped furiously, the lines of the track lanes a blur, her grip on the metal baton in her hand tightening…and she knew no one was anywhere near her…she knew it…and everything else painful fell away when her chest snapped the ribbon amongst a loud pop of cheering..._

_…Then the same physical sensation in her lungs as she ran for a different reason, through the field, across the train tracks, down the steep hill behind The Ferrin Homes Development. And she knew no one was anywhere near her…under the highway overpass and then down on her knees in the grass behind the convenience store…_

_…The flash of red, first from the iridescent crimson fabric of her dress and then from the blood on her body, a distinct metallic smell filling her nose, and his gurgled begging for her to help as his already drug inundated body spilled his life's blood. Then the threats of what he would do if he did live…and then her…in the corner, shaking fingers curled around the knife, her knees tucked up to her chin having made her decision already…_

_…The gavel smashed down, signaling her freedom…Mrs. Masey shoved a rolled up wad of cash into her hand, and tearfully reminded her that she had to be careful never to let anyone know. Success…she could see herself even now, who she had become and yet she appeared to be trapped, unable to go further. And then her dreams took her into a deeper fog, plunging her into deep, dark waters, where she could sense things unresolved…where she could not catch her breath…where her father was not able to save her…where she had to swim on her own to reach the surface. But it was so very hard, taking so long, and the weights around her ankles…they were very heavy…and yet she did not know how she even knew that they were weights, making it more difficult for her to reach the top, no matter how furiously she swam. But then she could see the light, a mere silver shimmer through the blackened and fearful waters, and something…there was something plunging through the murk to find her. The long and sculpted fingers seeking hers, the strong, familiar hand and the chiseled forearm…clamping onto it she felt the strength of his grasp…she felt the weights slip off of her ankles as if they'd never been there…she sensed herself being drawn up from beneath the water, inch by inch until her head surfaced and she gasped, filling her lungs with life giving air._

And she _had_ seen a light…and she _did_ gasp, but she hadn't been under the water…hadn't been pulled from it physically and yet his hand _was_ there clasping hers, along with his worried frown, as her chest heaved, sending a slight tingle of pain through her injured arm…He spoke her name.

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Dave Batista was walking in from the outside, with Max at his side…and Christy could see that they both had solemn but satisfied looks on their faces. She knew she probably shouldn't even be there, out in the hall not far from Nancy's room, though she hadn't been permitted by the nurse to enter. She noticed that he wasn't walking with a limp either and that was good…good for his career, but bad in a way because it meant that she wouldn't be needed to nurse him back to health. And he was _here_…still…nearly twelve hours after he had hitched a ride in the ambulance when he could have already gone back to the hotel, and that wasn't a good sign either…because it meant that he was here for _Nancy_.

Christy might have guessed that Max would be giving her a look that suggested she go to hell, but she hadn't been prepared for the stony unresponsiveness that flickered across the face of the Champion, the slight flare of his nostrils and the clenching of his jaw suggested that he was suppressing a tirade. She stood to her feet when he finally reached the row of chairs, just past the nurse's station.

"Hi…" She spoke, softly. "I just came to see if she's okay." Christy fiddled with the zipper on her flannel jacket, and stared at the floor. She knew she couldn't look him in the eyes, because she was ashamed. Something about the way he was staring right through her, as if he'd known every sin she'd ever committed and had already judged her accordingly, made her want to sink through the floor.

"Hmmph." The small huff, another clench of his jaw. "Because you care _so_ _much_, right?" His sarcasm was evident in the nuance that swam through the low rumble of his voice and his tongue set between his jaw and cheek.

"I know it doesn't seem like I care…" She licked her lip and cleared her throat. "But I do." She cared for _him_…and she did feel a twinge of guilt for what would undoubtedly happen tomorrow when the scandal hit the tabloids.

"Oh, really?" His tone was lackluster. "You're a hell of a gal."

She hadn't missed the dryness in his voice. "I didn't come here to fight with you." Her voice cracked.

"Why did you come here?" His brow creased and his voice was tight with suppressed frustration. "Did you come thinking you could score some points with me…how's your chest, by the way?"

He hadn't hidden the smirk when he'd made that remark and she felt the sting of his words. "I didn't know whether she would be awake, yet and I just thought that I could talk to her…I feel like I owe her an apology." Christy stammered, looking at the floor again to avoid his scathing glare.

"You owed her an apology a _long_ time ago…" Dave crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "But its okay…I already made amends for you...its how I ended up getting to know her in the first place." He grinned unable to resist the verbal jab and then it dawned on him why the two women had been engaged in their own personal warfare tonight in the match. She knew…Christy knew and had probably known all along. His eyes narrowed as his pulse began to pound rhythmically, furiously in his ears.

Christy must have sensed the dangerous shift in his demeanor, for she stepped back and began to chew the inside of her cheek. "I just meant that the match was a little rocky and because we're new at this and all…" She began to backpedal, having suddenly realized that she'd given herself away.

"Stop it." He warned keeping his distance. "You knew what was going on, and you went right along with it, didn't you?" He smiled and shook his head in disbelief. "You're pathetic."

"I don't know what you mean." She wouldn't look him in the eye, yet again. "We just had a rough match, that's all."

He could tell she was lying by the way she dodged the issue. "You're as bad as he is…" His voice was low and dark. "Maybe even worse…Because _you_ had an opportunity to do the right thing, and you didn't…what was in it for you?" He knew he would never get an honest answer, but at least she knew that he was wise to what she had done.

"Dave, I didn't do anything to hurt her…th-things weren't supposed to go this far…" She began to defend herself. "I'm the one who's gonna have a bruise from here to _here_ in the morning." She gestured to her aching collarbones with her hand as tears began to form on her lower lashes.

"Poor thing." He glowered as he spoke derisively.

"I know that you're mad at me tonight, but by tomorrow morning…or evening at the latest, you're gonna realize that _I've_ been here all along…She's lied to you…sh-she used you…" She began to sob. "You'll understand that I'm the one who's been honest with you this entire time." She reached out and laid her slender hand on his forearm.

Her roundabout confession, the sheer knowledge that she knew about the package that was supposed to have been on its way to the publication, vexed him. He flicked her hand off and swallowed, staring in her eyes he found a look of calculation…he suspected that even if her tears were real, her sense of logic was completely disjointed.

"I know we had something good when we were together…its still gotta be in there somewhere." She pleaded, touching his sternum gently with her fingers, indicating his heart.

"Yep…" He nodded, and laughed callously. "We had sex…that was it…it wasn't ever meant to be anything more than that…sorry you got the wrong idea." He announced flatly, gently brushing her hand off of his chest.

His words blasted her painfully, nearly shattering the idea that there would be more between the two of them. "Don't do this…you don't mean that, Dave...I know you're not that cruel…I'll give you more time…as much as you need." She stepped closer, clasping his forearm with her hands. "Being with _her_, will destroy your career, it's gonna ruin your life…hurt your daughters…I just want what's best for you…you _know_ that."

Her feigned concern for his daughters nearly enraged him, and her misguided empathy had him summoning all of his willpower just to stifle the urge to throttle her. "Christy…" He began, with a dangerous calm, a dark glimmer flashing in his deep brown eyes. His voice remained miraculously steady, even and threatening, "_Don't_ try to appeal to my better nature…because I don't have one." Again he estranged himself from her grasp. "You need to leave, _now_."

Christy pulled her hands away as if she'd been scorched and stuffed them into her pockets. He had turned away from her and though she wanted to press herself against his huge back and beg for his forgiveness, she reminded herself that Triple H had promised another avenue…a back-up plan. He had promised that he would deliver Dave…and even though right now the handsome champion wanted nothing to do with her…he would come around, as soon as the scandal hit the papers…he would see that _she_ was the one for him. She trudged down the hall and hit the button on the elevator, watching Dave converse intensely with Max as she waited.

The tone signaled the elevator's arrival and she stepped inside, turning to face the man that she loved, but he never even gave her a parting glance…the doors shut and she slid down the mirrored wall of the elevator car, hugging her knees to her chest, unable to cry, numb and terrified. Maybe she had gone too far, maybe he would _never_ want her again…but maybe…just maybe the tiny spark of fight left in her would be enough to rekindle his affection. She wasn't giving up yet.

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His neck and back were throbbing from hours of seeking a comfortable dozing position, to no avail, in the much too small chair in the corner of her room. He had seen her jerk, heard her stir and he scooted the chair up next to the bed, grasping her hand. Her breathing became slightly labored, as if she'd been holding her breath, but she wasn't writhing in pain, though she did wince when the involuntary jerk jarred her arm, which was now wrapped and in temporary traction against the side of her body.

"Nancy…" He whispered, wondering if she were about to wake. He watched her swallow and with very great effort, she lifted her heavy eyelids as if they had been glued shut. He smiled, thinking that it was like watching a baby wake after being fed. Her color was good and though her curls were in shambles, one would never have guessed the events that led up to her being here in this bed. "Hey…how do you feel?" It was a stupid question, because he knew she probably felt like hell, but he asked it anyway.

She turned her head toward the source of the voice and smiled slightly through her droopy eyelids. Swallowing again…her throat felt raw and she cleared it slightly. "I feel like I just had surgery." She croaked and laughed softly, and then winced again when the laugh shook her arm.

He found himself laughing with her, relieved…because she still managed to weave her humor into a bad situation. "I think you're gonna be fine." He had no idea where Max was at this hour, but he was glad that he had been the first one to see her after she woke up.

Nancy squinted at the glaring halogen light in the corner, thankful that the overhead lights had been turned off…His hand, warm and solid was holding hers…but for how long? She guessed it was late morning maybe even almost noon…her life was about to take a turn for the worse. "Where's Max?" She asked glancing toward the door.

"Not sure." Dave shook his head. "He's been here, though…the whole time." He perceived something as it crossed her features, but he wasn't sure whether it was gratitude or relief. A few silent moments passed, as he watched her eyes move from place to place in the room…it was awkwardly quiet. He had to say something…tell her what he knew…that it didn't matter, and let her know that she was safe…but how to go about it was another affair.

"I know everything." He didn't mean for it to come out the way it did, like a blast from a mace can and yet he knew no other way to tell her. He watched as she stared at the ceiling for a few seconds and then closed her eyes.

"Bought the morning paper, didn't you?" She didn't bother meeting his eyes…if he knew everything then it was only because the story had broken. Why was he even still here, why was he holding her hand in his?

"No." He shook his head.

"Tabloid then?"

"No." He told her, attempting to reassure her. "Nothing's going to be put in the papers…Max intercepted everything, I don't know how, but he managed to steal the papers from Vicki."

"You have them." It wasn't a question, but rather a confirmation. She felt her breath leave her, and she didn't dare hope that he hadn't read them. "It doesn't matter. Triple H is probably just getting another copy ready, now that he knows you have it."

"He doesn't know." Dave told her. "He has no idea that Max took the documents. He thinks they're in the hands of some columnist, but I assume he's done it anonymously because having possession of those records to begin with was a felony, so it's not like he can race in there demanding that they print your story." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, where they had just recently removed the IV and bandaged it and yet she still didn't look at him. "I read…them…I know it wasn't really my place or maybe it was, but I know all about what happened…I know how your dad died."

Her eyes blurred with tears and she still stared at the ceiling…she thought of the dream. "I remember _every_ single thing about him…" Her voice was wavering when she spoke, but he heard the degree of fondness. "I can tell you exactly what he smelled like. Ask me what side he parted his hair on…I can tell you that too." She worked her jaw…he assumed it was to keep from crying. "His hair was curly like mine…I got my green eyes from him. He was _so_ tall and he had these…_huge_ hands…I miss…him." Her voice caught in her throat and though he wanted to soothe her, to tell her that she didn't have to tell him if it hurt her to do so…he let her continue, because she seemed to _need_ to tell someone.

"Your mother's still alive, isn't she?" He asked her gently.

Nancy nodded, a wry smile twisting her features. "_She_ was in the press box last night…"

"What?" Dave was confused.

"He put her in the press box as insurance for my _obedience_." Nancy shook her head, the tears burning her eyelids. "But yes, she is very much alive…and maybe I just thought somewhere deep down that if I convinced myself that she was dead, then she really would be." She continued. "She was always, just…a functioning alcoholic, and he loved her _so_ much…my dad. He tried to get help for her, but she refused it." The confession of her past was lifting a burden and though she surmised he already knew the bulk of her dirty secrets, she found she couldn't stop...somehow she felt safe in the telling of it. "After he died, she went…crazy…it was _my_ fault…that's what she always said, and I know better, now…but when you're little you don't know better."

It was hard for him to imagine…he'd only ever known good parenting. His mother had been wonderfully sacrificial and altruistic, his ex-wife was a magnificent mother…his daughters had every advantage possible, and so it was hard to grasp what he heard, even though he knew it had been true. "She hurt you." He admitted it for her.

"Sometimes…mostly when I was little, when I couldn't get out of her way, but as I got older, she became more of a clumsy drunk…usually I just ran or dodged fists." Nancy laughed a little, but he didn't seem to share in her humor. "But sometimes she got a good one in…no big deal." He watched her try to reconstruct her shell of dignity, but she was failing, he knew it because her eyes closed when as she related the story. "I ran away a lot…sometimes she called the police, other times, she had no idea I was even gone until after I came back…and then she let Eddie Pritchard move into our trailer." She forced herself to breathe, as she formed the words. "I hated him before I knew anything about him…I used to stay away for hours, when I was supposed to be home, to avoid him…I went to libraries, conventions anything I could get into for free. My dad told me when I was five…and yes I can remember back that far…he said that every time you taught yourself something of value, you took a step further away from poverty." She shook her head, and smiled. "I had to ask him to tell me what poverty was…I didn't know…" She laughed. "I studied art at the museums on Saturdays, so I could be away when Eddie's dealers showed up, I read for hours at the library, and Mrs. Masey taught me how to sew…she's the reason I have this skill and have this career."

Now he knew why she'd always seemed to know so many different things, how she had been able to tell him which flowers had been what, and how she'd known who the artist had been…from the painting in his cabana. "Why didn't you tell the police what he did to you?" He knew that to him it didn't matter, but he wanted her to admit it, to face it and work through it.

"They knew…" She frowned. "You could see it on their face…How could they not know?" She looked at him for the first time since he had initiated the conversation. "I could have called for help…or better yet I could have left that knife in the kitchen drawer…but I knew he would do it again...I just couldn't let him do it again. I let him die…I knew what I was doing…and I had heard him tell my mother that morning that he was moving us to Kentucky as soon as summer came…I just wanted him gone." She searched his eyes, for some hint of disgust…something to tell her that he was through, and her hope kindled when she saw none. "I know what I did was wrong."

He shook his head and breathed in deeply. "When you can't get help…then _any_ measure you have to take to preserve yourself…or what's left of what you have, isn't wrong." He held her fingers against his lips, as he spoke.

"I took a human life." She admitted, again searching for some hint of reproach in the deep brown pools.

"And he _didn't_?" He asked. "He may be dead, but do you actually think you were in anyway _alive_ when he was hurting you? Human life isn't just in blood and body…it's in your spirit too, he broke your spirit…so it seems to me like it was a fair debt paid."

"I'm sorry I lied to you." She said, as tears dripped down the side of her face. "I just never even anticipated _you_…" She admitted. "It was coffee on _her_…and you just happened to be there…" her chin quivered as she stammered.

He was smiling because he understood exactly how she felt…he'd definitely never anticipated _her_ either.

"It wasn't supposed to…it was just a ride, and then just breakfast…and you look at me like I mean something to you…and then I couldn't walk away…I thought about it, but I couldn't." She shook her head, and cupped his cheek with her hand, grazing his five o'clock shadow.

"Did you think I wouldn't understand?" He asked, his voice thick with the effort to hold in emotion.

"I don't know what I thought…You deserved better I guess, your girls…I never wanted you to be ashamed that you knew me…or second guess yourself."

"Why? Because that's what _he_ told you, when he forced you to help him, or because you really believe that's the kind of man I am?" He asked. "Because I can promise you that whoever he tried to convince you I am, isn't even close…you know me, don't you?" He touched his chest. "None of your past matters to me…because it's over, it's not who you are…if the system buried it, then so can you." He cast caution to the wind. "Why in the _hell_ did you go after that belt, when you knew what he wanted to do?"

"He was expecting me to fail you…I tried so hard to get _her_ to help me…he was watching me, mocking me when he had that chair and he hit you…I was _so_ angry and scared." She nearly sobbed through clenched teeth. "You weren't gonna want me once you knew what I had done…I didn't have anything else left to lose…I didn't know at that moment that you had overheard, that you already knew that I had planned to let you down…I had to prove to myself that I could make the right decision, I wanted to take the control away from him."

"It's just a belt." He said softly. "It's important…but not that important."

"I know…but it meant something to me…winning it for you, when just seconds before I was supposed to take a fall and help you lose it."

"And Christy?" The name was acid in his mouth. "How does she figure into all of this." He was sure he already knew the answer.

"She knew everything, but she was so scared of him…she was never going to help…but that didn't mean that she didn't deserve her secrecy too. He had dirt on her, just like he did on me."

"And so you knocked her out to protect her?" He almost laughed at the irony. Nancy had risked herself to shield from retaliation, someone who would just as soon throw _her_ under the bus as give her the time of day.

"Well, yes that, and because I _really_ wanted to prove to you that I could execute that kick."

He nearly roared his laughter, head tilted back. "You and Audrey are cut from the same cloth." And he couldn't stop himself from planting a kiss on her lips, and whispering the same three words that he had in the closet, against the satin skin of her cheek.

Before she could respond, the door opened and in swept Max. He had a lunch tray in hand and a portly nurse hot on his heels, protesting his having brought food in without her consent. "Oh damn…I always do that...I missed something good again, didn't I?" He referred to his habitual interruptions. Max then turned to the nurse behind him who had begun a tirade of incessant chattering about his food tray.

"You can't share that with _her_." The nurse informed him wagged her finger sternly. "The last thing I want is for her to throw up and put strain her shoulder!" The woman was curt and frowning fiercely.

"Damn, lady!" Max matched her glare. "Look at me…guess my weight…do I actually look like a person who would share my food with anyone?"

The nurse glowered, huffed and turned to exit the room.

"Yeah, I didn't think so." Max retorted to her retreating figure, then he turned as soon as the door shut and placed the tray on the bedside table, pulling it directly in front of Nancy. "I know they're starving you in here…so I got some of your favorites…Sorry Big Dave, but you're on your own for lunch, I couldn't carry two trays and her dismissal paperwork at the same time."

"That's fine." Dave smiled good-naturedly, even though he had a strong desire to cuff Max in the back of the head for walking in on a private moment, yet again.

Max produced a folded stack of papers from his back pocket. "Okay Twisted-Sister, here's the plan." He teased plucking one of her stray curls and watching it spring back. "So they say that they're gonna release you this evening." He chattered, as he pulled a second chair up to the opposite side of the bed. "I spoke to my mom and she said she's more than happy to help you rehab at the ranch until you're better, she said to tell you she loves you." He continued to rattle on. "I can book a flight for you tonight, but since I won't be able to be on it…Bischoff won't give me anymore personal days this year, egocentric prick…I'm gonna pay for one of those liaison…security people…you know, the ones that fly with under-aged kids…"

Dave interrupted as soon as he saw the look of doubt cross her face. "Max, can I talk to you for a second?" He didn't wait for a response, but rather he stepped out into the hallway motioning his fingers in a come along gesture, expectant that Max would follow. He did.

Nancy was left to the task of picking at the variety buffet on the tray, oddly finding her appetite lacking. The only thing of interest to her was a slice of chocolate mousse pie and a glass of water and she devoured both and pushed the tray away. Twenty minutes had passed and neither Max nor Dave had returned. Sighing, she concluded that they were both, most probably contracting a pay-by-the-hour security officer to baby-sit her on her flight and carry her luggage to Max's mother's SUV. Nancy _did_ love his family, and they had just as readily made her a part of it, and yet still she felt a little less than enthusiastic about pawning herself off on such giving people. Yet at the same time, she had no home of her own at which to convalesce, having given that up for a life in hotels.

A half hour later, the door opened again, causing Nancy to jump thinking it might be the nurse who had hassled Max about the food tray. Thankfully it was not. Dismissal paperwork in hand, Dave sat back down in the chair beside her bed.

"Not hungry?" He queried as he glanced toward the tray and then settled his eyes on her.

"No." She admitted, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable under his intense gaze. _'Here's the part where he bows out gracefully'_ her inner voice announced.

His thoughts had been in place before he had come in again. He'd even mentally rehearsed the speech, but now his inner animal cruelly scattered his practiced words like marbles on a stone floor. For the life of him he could not imagine how to ask her without sounding like a complete idiot. He stared at her for a moment longer, grasping for the words.

"Don't go to Colorado." He blurted and then silently chastised himself. "I mean…you don't, uh." He scratched his chin nervously, _Bloody hell!_ He sighed and righted his thoughts before he began again. "I have a week…it's what I could get…and I'm going home." He cleared his throat praying that the words would come out the right way. _'Say it, say it'_ The beast taunted. "Come with me…let me take care of you for a week…and then after that if you wanna go to Max's ranch, I'll fly you there." The words fell out of his mouth like confetti from the ceiling of Madison Square Garden.

A small ache settled in her heart, in that place where all her hope lay…and she wanted to answer him…her throat was dry all of a sudden and her conscience having sensed her innermost desire, pushed forth one highly profound word from between her lips.

"Okay."


	30. Chapter 29

Uncommon Sense Chapter 29  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."

-_James Baldwin_

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Roasted Rosemary Pork Loin…he laughed a little when he thought about it, about how hard he'd worked on it and about how he'd never confess to the guys in the back how much fun he'd had doing it. True, he _was_ a good cook, and true he'd been cooking for her in some capacity for the past five days, but tonight was different, because tonight had to be perfect. Dave had questions that had to have answers, there were things that needed to be discussed and he surmised that tipping the scales in his favor by enticing her with food couldn't be a bad idea.

And so he'd spent a couple of hours at least shopping for the needed ingredients, setting the table, rubbing the pork loin with spices, arranging the vegetables in the pan and then hovering over the masterpiece while it baked as if he were waiting for an egg to hatch. He'd considered ordering take-out, because his already overloaded brain was finding it hard to concentrate on his rehearsed speech, much less a high-maintenance, full course meal, but he decided against it, because he'd wanted so badly for her to remember that _he'd_ made the dinner and because he needed every advantage he could get when it came to his discussion with her this evening…especially after the phone call he'd received earlier in the day.

His mind momentarily drifted back to it, as he again peeked through the glass oven door to check on his creation. He'd been surprised to get the call from Vince and even more stunned still, when Vince had explained to him that because of the need for a ratings boost on the currently struggling SmackDown Brand show, that there needed to be a major shift in the roster, just as there had been when Cena had been drafted to Raw. Dave had known what was coming before Vince had finished the sentence. He was being sent to SmackDown and there really wasn't another alternative. Vince had softened the blow by announcing that Dave would be taking the Championship with him, since Cena had brought the WWE Championship over from the other brand when he'd been drafted…little consolation. Ordinarily something like this wouldn't have bothered Dave…he liked change on occasion. But there was Nancy and then there was the sudden rush of fear at the thought of her being left behind where he couldn't know what might happen to her.

The call had ended and the wheels in his head had begun to spin out of control, thinking of a thousand different dangers that might befall her without him there to keep an eye on her. Two of those dangers just happened to be in human form and also just happened to have already caused a hell of a lot of trouble for her already, and the last thing he wanted was for Nancy to be at Christy's mercy or be the brunt of Triple H's whim. And so he'd calmed down long enough to think things through while she rested. He knew what had to be done, had come up with a perfect solution and had rehearsed what he would say…how he would ask. But it had to be done tonight, because he would be leaving for his meeting with Vince, and a promotional photo shoot tomorrow morning.

The five days she'd been here had flown by faster than he'd wanted, and though Nancy was stiff and sore, because of the arthroscopic aspect of her procedure, she seemed to be in very high-spirits. That hadn't been the case the entire time though and he thought back to the red-eye flight they'd taken to get her here, and how she'd opted out of painkillers at the hospital, but had accepted the injection of phenergan to help with her nausea. She'd had a bad reaction to that, he remembered. It hadn't taken affect until they were in the air, and then she'd clamped onto his forearm with her small hand, leaned over and whispered in his ear that she was worried because she could see two of him. He'd tried to ease her mind and told her that if that was the case, then 'both of him' thought she should lie back and try to sleep. He hadn't worried much, at least not until he'd had to carry her from the cab to his bed and then support her lethargic body with one arm while he undressed her with the other.

She had barely responded to him, even then, being limp and incoherent, much like a drunk…and so he'd called her physician and been reassured that none of her symptoms meant she was in danger, and that some patients, though fewer than one in a thousand reacted this way to certain medications it was no cause for alarm. The doctor had given him subtle signs to look for that might indicate duress and he'd spent the remainder of the night propped up in the bed next to her fussing over her sleeping figure like he currently was the Roasted Rosemary Pork Loin.

A glance toward the upstairs master told him she was awake, standing at the top of the railing, watching him…how long she'd been there, he didn't know. His stomach did a tiny flip-flop, when he saw her wearing his favorite shirt again, barely buttoned…giving him a sinful glimpse of her upper thighs. He had hidden her clothing again in Audrey's room as a joke…but if he had to go many more days without touching her he was tempted to start hiding his own clothing from her too. He curled his fingers motioning for her to come downstairs, as the practiced speech ran over and again in his mind.

"I knew you were up to something…it smells wonderful." Nancy breathed in deeply and even though she was tempted to peek, she obeyed when he pulled out her chair and motioned for her to sit. "Is there a special occasion?" She asked as she watched him pull the steaming pork loin out of the oven and slice it into medallions.

He only winked, because speaking would cause him to lose his train of thought. And he was already finding it hard to keep his mind on what he had planned, what with her being barely clothed in his dining room. His throat was dry as he placed the entrée at one end of the long table, where he'd positioned both settings close to one another. He didn't want to find himself trying to talk to her and ask her important questions, over top of the gargantuan contemporary centerpiece--some garish piece of art that he still could not clearly identify.

Nancy watched him work with the fluid ease of a seasoned chef…a seasoned chef who had either forgotten how to speak or was so focused on the task at hand that he chose not to. By God, the man could do everything…if she hadn't seen him pull the culinary work of art from the oven with his own two hands and seen the few remnants of preparatory items in the sink she might have thought he'd called into a restaurant and tried to pass the meal off for his own. One thing was for certain, he was anything but a one dimensional man.

She hadn't missed the thoughtful way he'd dressed the table, or the way he'd dimmed the lights in the normally austere main living area. He had absolutely been right when he'd described to her how cold and uninviting the designer had made his condo. Nancy hadn't seen much of it the first couple of days she'd been here, but after finally getting up and around she had been able to take in the rigid surroundings, a decor in that was in complete contrast with the man who called it home. Tall exposed rafters, with tension cables running from the center I-beam and then spanning out toward the load bearing walls, seemed to stretch into the heavens.

Each room was open to the next and sparsely furnished, save for the immense white sofa that had been placed at an intimidating angle in front of the largest inset television she'd ever set eyes on and the long, oversized dining table at which she was currently seated. The stairs were nothing but concrete risers and treads with steel airline cable attached to steel railings, and surrounding a huge concrete pillar that seemed to be the veritable mast of the condo itself. One could not see into the bedrooms from the main floor but once atop the landing, a person could see the entire bottom floor in any direction they chose to look.

Dave's bedroom had been cold too, not with regard to temperature, but aesthetically. It was far too large a room to have so few furnishings. She had noticed a rather large bed, a night table, chair, dresser and some sort of nondescript stone sculpture atop a concrete pillar in the corner near the entrance to his master bath. He must have tried to make her surroundings more comfortable while she slept, because he'd thrown a fluffy blanket over the edge of the hard lined chair in the one corner as if he'd wished to hide it and another one on the bed. He had filled two empty stone vases with calla lilies, her favorite flower, placing them on the dresser to the left of the massive bed, the tiny gestures giving immeasurable life to the harsh surroundings.

She watched him again as he sat down, filling two wine glasses. He appeared so silent and so in thought…about what? She did not know. The smell of the food alone was enough to make her mouth water and she found it hard not to devour it the instant it was placed in front of her.

"This is really nice of you." She told him. "I had no idea you were such a fantastic chef." Her words were soft as she stared intently at him, trying to figure out why he appeared so nervous.

"Why? Do I not look like a chef?" He laughed softly.

"You just surprise me, that's all." She admitted, still not taking her eyes off of him.

"Even still?" He asked, meeting her gaze, and wondering if now was the right moment to tell her about the phone call and ask her the things he had to ask.

"Even _more_ so still." She told him.

His words failed him, as he wet his lips and then took to cutting his meat. In a moment he would ask, when he could concentrate again and reform the phrases that were as of now eluding him. He should just be able to come out with it…but it had to be just right, it was far too important to come out sounding like an afterthought.

She complimented his cooking again, thanked him for the hundredth time since waking up coherently the day after he'd brought her here, for spoiling her, and as he tried to draw on his courage again, the words escaped him once more and before he knew it, the meal was over and he hadn't even gotten around to asking her what he had planned. He didn't panic though, because he had a plan, maybe…and maybe not. All he knew was that he couldn't let the night go by without laying all the cards on the table. So when she'd suggested that he allow her to help him do the dishes, he'd politely refused suggesting that she have a bath and let him do the dishes…a creative ploy to gain the precious time needed to realign his brain with his mouth so that the two of them would work in unison.

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Triple H, a.k.a Paul Levesque, leaned back in the oversized leather club chair in his media room and propped his bare feet on the ottoman in front of him. He shuffled through the newspaper in his hand, perplexed by the fact that Nancy's story had never ended up in the paper, not the day after the match…not even five days after the match, nor had it ended up in the low rent tabloids that the young columnist was in charge of running. Something had gone awry…again. The scandal would have proved a bit difficult for the WWE, but only momentarily. They would have certainly terminated her and started damage control immediately, especially when the tabloid would no doubt have stretched the truth about an already dark story. The shame that Nancy would have endured, however, would have lasted a lifetime. It was a shame that he wasn't going to be able to witness it.

"Mr. Levesque?" The slight Spanish accent from the door caught his attention and he turned to regard his _Major Domo_ with a scowl and a grunt. "Sir, they say that the vehicle is a total loss, but thankfully your insurance will cover the vandalism, though not at full replacement cost."

"Thank you." His clipped reply was obviously forced, his anger over the condition of his car and over the fact that his plan had crashed and burned, had him able to do little more than grace his petrified staff with monosyllabic responses, requests and demands. He'd had them running like marathoners all morning. Even his wife's Pomeranian hadn't made an appearance this morning, preferring to stay under the bed in the expansive bedroom, so as not to have a run in with his ill tempered master.

His only comfort was the phone call he'd had earlier this morning with his father-in-law…a post suggestion confirmation that had turned the tables in his favor once more. The last element of his plan had taken shape in the form of a proposal, introduced in a corporate meeting months prior to the phone call this morning. It had been inserted surreptitiously by Paul Levesque, via his wife Stephanie. He'd been using _her_ power to swing the axe, and had finally dealt the blow. Ratings booster…it was pure genius…and pure luck, because they could have just as easily sent _him_ to SmackDown instead of Dave Batista. Triple H was a ratings booster even without the belt and he had known the chance he was taking in even suggesting it to Stephanie and so he'd done it in the middle of a particularly hot sexual encounter, the best time to get what he wanted…she tended to say 'yes' to anything when she was on the edge.

The one thing that had him ready to spit nails, despite his sudden windfall of good fortune was the fact that the Championship was changing brands as well…this, only because he hadn't won it, via Christy Hemme in the proxy match. He had Nancy Adams to blame for that one, and though her secret past would stay safe…as it evidently was not in the works to hit the presses anytime soon…she was still going to pay. Now that his wife had contracted her for a new designer line of clothing…at Paul's behest, Nancy would be securely tethered to Raw, while her beloved Dave Batista was being shipped to SmackDown with Christy Hemme and Stacy Keibler as a conceded bonus, soon to follow. Eventually Dave and Nancy would find it far too difficult to try and keep up their long distance relationship and they would part…but not without emotional ramifications…and that was something he was counting on.

And as for Christy…that was a matter for the history books…he'd never seen an obsession as sick as hers, except maybe for his own. She had been so hysterically giddy when he'd called her to relate the news and to explain how she was to meet in Massachusetts this week for her contract re-signing, that she hadn't been able to stop squealing and thanking him. Unfortunately for her, the draft guaranteed nothing in the way of a future with Dave Batista…it only created a way of distraction and maybe an opportunity to slip in while Dave's guard was down, but he'd never tell _her_ that. And Triple H didn't much care whether or not the two of them got together, just so long as he didn't have to deal with either one of them anymore, and could still be in the ring on RAW. And as for Nancy…well he would enjoy the desirable prospect of tormenting her until he tired of it. It would be easy since she would be working very closely with his wife in future months. Who knew, she might even be showing up at his house every now and again to confer with Stephanie and he'd have the opportunity to show her what an awkward situation was all about.

He tossed the newspaper in the floor next to the club chair and picked up his cell phone dialing the number to _Miller Motor Cars_, the Ferrari dealership in Greenwich, Connecticut. Damn vandals…he had some idea of who might have obliterated his collector's item vehicle, but the tape in the security office that would have detailed every second of what transpired that evening in the parking garage had mysteriously disappeared.

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Nancy sank down into the hot running water, covering the area of her shoulder where her three small sutures lay, with a dry washcloth so as not to splash them with water. She sighed when her back touched the warm inside surface of the massive roman tub. The floors had radiant heating throughout, and it was a good thing too, because no area rugs had ever been put down. And as large as the tub was, if it hadn't been heated on the sides and bottom, the water would have become cold as ice in mere minutes. But Nancy wasn't quite as interested in the tub and its amenities as she was in figuring out why Dave was acting so strangely. Throughout dinner she'd caught him staring at her several times and it even appeared as if he'd wanted to say something important, his deep mahogany eyes filled with trepidation, but then he'd turned back to his food in silence. This had happened several times leaving her half tempted to demand that he spit it out…whatever _it_ was.

Nancy had also thought it rather interesting that he'd orchestrated so fine an atmosphere for something…_something_ he'd not gotten around to completing. Or perhaps she was just reading too much into the whole scenario. Likely Dave was merely as disinclined as she was for the week to be over and his demeanor was simply a result of that. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to dwell on it, because soon enough, they would both be required back on RAW, in their respective positions, hopefully able to concentrate on that facet of their lives. Nancy found herself fortunate to be permitted to use the personal trainers on staff for the minimal physical therapy that she would be required to undergo, a blessing, since she wouldn't have to take time off of work and travel to a special facility and then she would be back in Wardrobe at the same time and never in the ring again.

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Damn! If he didn't feel like kicking his own ass! He'd had the words…they'd been right there on the tip of his tongue and just as always her presence had him so rattled that he hadn't been able to get them out the way he'd wanted. What in the hell had happened to his equanimity, his nonchalance? Where had all of his confidence gone? Or was it just the sensitivity of what had to be asked that made him feel like writing it out and hiding behind a closed door while she read it, just so he wouldn't be embarrassed. Dave slid the platter into the bottom rack of the dishwasher, making certain that the blade cleared the top of it, before jamming the rack back in. He was nowhere near done with the dishes and already his heart and his head were in absolute opposition with one another. His conscious mind was logically reminding him that if he wasted too much time, he could lose her. All the while his inner animal was reminding him that she was naked in his master bath…and yet his heart told him that he had to tell her what he must, no matter how the words came out and that if she loved him, then the verbalization, steady or stuttered, eloquent or ordinary, wouldn't really matter.

He tossed the towel down on the marble topped island and left the dishes to do themselves. He fully intended to ask her, right now and to hell with how it came out of his mouth. Dave ascended the stairs and crossed the landing, a determined stride leading him down the open hallway past the girl's bedrooms and into the master bedroom. The wall sconces in the massive room had been turned on automatically by the home's electronic system and dimmed accordingly, casting a soft glow on the harsh surroundings. The room was so large, however, that the light barely chased the shadows from the corners. He glanced at the thermostat on the wall, thankful that he'd opted for a smart system to be installed in the condo, instead of something manual, because it meant that the house automatically kept up with the outside temperature and light levels, and adjusted those respectively inside of the house, based on body temperature and time of day. It had cost a small fortune, but he'd never once, in the year he'd owned the place had to adjust the temperature himself.

There was no door on the master bath, just a sharp, square opening that led inside of a cavernous, yet sparsely adorned room. The roman tub, surrounded by four large concrete columns and on a raised platform, was imposing in the center of the large bathroom and he guessed that it had been the designer's particular interpretation of a contemporary-modern Greek palace. Nancy was soaking in the bath with her head leaned back, a washcloth on her shoulder and another one over her eyes. He smiled because she appeared to be extremely comfortable…not just in the warmth of the water, but in his home all around, despite the rigid design of the interior which he himself hated.

Looking at her from behind, he could see that she'd already washed her hair and secured the thick curls to the top of her head with some contraption that he was certain only a woman would know how to operate. He detected the faint trill of music muffled by headphones and could see that she had already commandeered his MP3 player to which she was currently listening as she let the water ease away her aches. Dave rounded the tub, to look at her fully and clenched his jaw when he realized that she wasn't taking a bubble bath, but soaking in clear, warm water. He could see absolutely _everything_…and for someone who hadn't had _anything_ in nearly five days…it was pure inhospitable torture.

He quietly slid the towels off of the small tub-side bench and sat down. Dave watched the water lap against her breasts as she lay with one leg stretched completely forward and the other leg bent, her knee poking out of the water. Both of her delicate hands rested on the sides of the tub and he wondered if she might be dozing off. A wicked grinned drifted across his lips at the though of his covert voyeurism, and then remembering what he'd come up here for in the first place, he reached out and grazed one long finger across the soft skin of the knee that was peeking above the water. She jumped and he laughed as the water rippled gently…but she certainly knew it was _him_, because she smiled, even before pulling the cloth away from her eyes. He noticed that she appeared to be exhausted. She tugged the headphones out of her ears and placed them aside, yawning and stretching in the tub, unintentionally giving him a rather nice view of her form. By God, he was half tempted to climb in there with her, clothing or no clothing.

"I was just about ready to get out and go to bed." She said a sleepy lilt to her voice.

"It looked to me like you were _already_ falling asleep." He told her as he watched her lean forward.

"Much longer in that hot water and I might have." She admitted, smiling. "Will you help me?"

He grasped her good arm as she stood and then lifted the towel up as he helped her step out. The muscles of his stomach clenched involuntarily at the sight of her body, as the water dripped from it. He had things he needed to say…and this kind of distraction wasn't helping…wrapping the towel around her, as she leaned into him for a hug, he cleared his throat preparing to speak, but he could tell by her incessant yawning that she was tired. He wished that he could pull the words from the slate in his brain on which he'd prepared them and just hand them over to her.

"Come on." He led her out of the bathroom toward the bed, resolving that he would have his talk with her in the morning. He would put her in his bed, finish the dishes and then spend half the night trying to justify his senseless procrastination. _'Chicken Shit!'_ His inner animal spouted slanderously. Dave was for once inclined to agree.

At the edge of the bed, he brushed a stray curl from her forehead, deciding that he would merely tuck her in and tell her 'goodnight', but then his unruly hands ached to pull that _thing_ out of her hair, and so he did. The damp curls tumbled free, spilling into his hands and along with them wafted the delightful hint of her perfume oil, which he now knew she used, after having discovered it while helping her get ready for her hospital dismissal.

It would just be 'goodnight', he told himself, as his hands slid beneath the towel, to grasp her hips in an attempt to lift her onto the bed. He didn't want her to have to struggle just to get up there with an injured shoulder…at least that's what he told himself…but his hands on her hot, damp flesh and the sensation of his thumbs against her hipbone scattered his ability to reason.

Dave lifted her onto the edge of the bed, she was eye to eye with him and his hands, still on her hips grazed the top of her thighs as he stood between her knees. He could ask her now…he could. Couldn't he? No, he would let her sleep and then ask her in the morning. It would just be 'goodnight', he reminded himself again when he leaned forward so he could kiss her. But oh, the feel of her thighs as he splayed one hand on each of them, when her lips met with his. And then it could not just be 'goodnight', not when he pulled away to tell her such and saw the moist gleam on her lips where his mouth had just been, and not when he spied the rapid pulse at the base of her throat causing that tiny diamond to move about, casting shimmers between the two of them. No, it could not just be goodnight, not after what she'd just whispered in his ear.

And how had his shirt been unbuttoned without his knowing?…He hadn't done it. No matter, he shrugged it off quickly. He should really let her rest…he reasoned, but he could not do that, not when her hand was fighting with his belt buckle and her lips were meeting with his, teasing in a way that he could never resist. And certainly not when her hand glided fearlessly over the flesh of his chest as she asked him to stay…not just goodnight when he felt the waist of his pants slide open and felt her hand slide inside. What was that he'd wanted to ask her? Damned if he remembered anymore…His body reacted instantly, leaping to life in her hand, and then all he could do was brace his hands against the mattress on either side of her hips to keep his legs from giving out on him as he stood there with his eyes closed. Dave lost his entire ability to think as the blood rushed from his brain to his nether regions, but it didn't matter if his brain was working or not because he could still feel that hand.

Nancy had been tempted by him before he'd snuck in while she was in her bath. She'd watched him from above while he'd prepared some of their dinner, muscles working under the fabric of his shirt with his every movement, as he constantly peeked in the door of the oven as if the dinner might have grown legs and run away. She'd been tempted even just a few days ago when she'd woken up the first morning, barely able to remember the flight here, and found her own head on his chest.

Nancy wasn't finding it an easy task to resist him, not when he was this close, not when she was feeling so much better and not when he'd spoiled her so much. And after nearly five days of being deprived of his touch, all it had taken was that tiny stroke of a long finger over the skin of her knee, to send a lightening bolt rocketing through her. And when every voice in her body screamed out in want of him, when her body reacted to him of its own will regardless of the circumstance, how in the world could she possibly refuse to give in to it?

And now she had him in her hand, hot and hard and thick against her palm and she couldn't possibly imagine letting him just tuck her in, not now. She found her lips on the copper skin of his neck as she caressed him, running her tongue from the hollow of his throat, past his Adam's apple and then gently suckling the flesh just below his jaw line. Her other arm limited her, giving her restricted range of motion, but she was still able to push the waist band of his slacks down past his hips. Her lips curved into a smile against the flesh of his neck when she heard him groan. "Please." The soft request rolled of its own accord off of her tongue as her lips met with his ear. And yet she hadn't even known for what she was asking. She squeezed him gently in her hand and instantly she felt his desire vibrate deep within him.

"Nancy…" His voice was low, ragged and broken. "If you do that…I can't…I won't be able…"

"And you shouldn't have to." She finished his confession for him, taking his bottom lip between her teeth. "Please." She asked again.

Well, _he_ didn't need an engraved invitation, and _she_ was lucky he had enough sense in his muddled brain to remember her shoulder, because he wanted to throw her back against the covers and take out five days of sexual frustration on her…and no, it would _not_ be just goodnight…but there _was_ the shoulder and so he would be careful.

When he was finally able to command his hands to work again, he sank them into her curls and gently tugged her head back, whispering in her ear, responding to her request for him not to leave. His lips were on hers as he laid her back, restraining the animal, one hand lifting her leg up as he leaned over her…because he had to have something to touch, and because he wanted to kiss her knee, her calf, her ankle…he knew how those kisses affected her.

Hovering above her in his bed, he wondered if the words he'd practiced even mattered, he loved her, and he believed she loved him, though she'd not yet told him. He wanted to ask her if she was sure…if she had the energy for what they were about to do, but before he could finish his question, she cut him off with her kiss…drugging him…giving him silent reassurance that she was perfectly fine. He would be slow, he resolved as he felt the sweet pressure of her thighs on either side of his legs.

Nancy felt the length of him as he seated himself between her thighs, ready to complete her and then suddenly she couldn't wait for it, couldn't hold off for his kisses to finish…she arched against him with all of the power of five days of sexual neglect. The brazen action pulled him fully, deeply inside of her. She could hear his breath audibly catch in his throat, along with some other primal noise that resembled a growl following it. She was wild with the need of him, and completely devoid of anything but the knowledge of the woman she was when she was with him.

Impossible to stop, he moved within her…cautious of her shoulder and yet she didn't seem to be the least bit bothered by it. His hands tangled softly through her curls, as he propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at her. The green eyes he loved glimmered with an energy that defied her earlier claims of being sleepy, and yet even this very moment, they were hazing with the cloud of desire, as her hips rocked beneath him.

Her palms gripped his powerful biceps as she lay beneath him, staring at him…the intensity of his gaze propelling her toward completion. Three words…she could say it…couldn't she? She felt it…didn't she? Nancy found the words tumbling from her lips without her effort, against the flesh of his neck when he leaned down to nibble her ear. "I love you." And she felt his body melt against hers for a mere second.

Dave might have missed it had he not been thinking at that very minute of how he wished she would say it. And then she had said it again, a second time…his heart needed to hear it, his mind needed to know it. And suddenly everything he'd ever heard, or seen, or done since the moment he'd met her came flashing before his eyes in one swift emotional culmination that forced his physical body over the edge. He released before her but not without her, barely able to hold himself up. His heart was thundering in his ears, but it had not been able to drown out her words, nor his response, as he suddenly realized that this was where he wanted to be right now and every single night for the rest of his life. He whispered again in her ear, as she shook with the force of the coupling, reaffirming the promises he'd told her in the closet…the ones that he'd been afraid of not fulfilling. He felt her breathing begin to calm, as he laid his head on her chest, unwilling to leave her. He even felt her fingers playfully caressing the flesh of his arm and was tempted again to ask her the questions he had, but he couldn't help but feel that tomorrow would be a more appropriate time to ask. Besides he was still having a difficult time thinking, in light of the sudden deprivation of blood from his brain.

And now her eyelids were drooping as he raised himself up to glance at her. His questions would have to wait.


	31. Chapter 30

Uncommon Sense Chapter 30  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn."

-_David Russell_

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Vicki was borderline livid as she stomped furiously down the hallway, through the crowded arena, weaving in and out of various staff and miscellaneous unknown persons in her pursuit of the one human being upon whom she intended to vent every last droplet of her rage. Since the very moment that she had entered the arena, the biggest buzz from everyone that had stopped to interact with her was that she had been sleeping with Max Hadaway. It was all over the place and people were coming out of the veritable wood-work with congratulations as well as confused inquiries about a possible impending engagement. Of course, there had been laughing and veiled mocking from some, kudos from others as well as genuine slack-jawed appraisal of her, from nearly everyone.

Whipping the door of the _Wardrobe_ room open with ferocious intensity, the rush of air from the door slung her silk scarf past her face and she nearly tore it off in annoyance. She scanned the room rapidly with a brutal gaze, prepared to lock onto her target, but Max was nowhere in sight. Vicki slammed the door shut as she walked back out and upon spinning around, she ran directly into her assistant Paulo.

He caught his balance and straightened his shirt. "You know…I thought he was gay." Paulo assessed with a perplexed expression, lifting his fingers to his dainty chin. "But you two are like really an item, huh?"

"_No_…we are _not_ an _item_!" Vicki ground out in frustration, knowing instantly to whom he was referring. "Where did you hear about this?" She asked venomously, her voice strained and angry, one elegant finger jabbing Paulo's chest for emphasis.

"I'm not sure who blew the whistle on the two of you, but _everyone's_ talking about it." Paulo shrugged. "It's no big deal, Max is doing damage control as it is…I guess."

"You _guess_!" She sneered, half tempted to rip the delicate goatee from his face. "What kind of damage control?" Her eyes narrowed and her cupid's bow lips thinned with her wrath.

"Well, he didn't exactly deny it…he just said that the two of you were in love and that's the sort of thing that happens when two people are in love…but I know for a fact that he asked a couple of the guys from the back not to make a big deal out of it, so he must really have some sense of respect for you."

"_Really_?" She repeated, derisively.

"He mentioned to Shane Helms that even though you had been with practically everyone on the roster, he was still in love with you...Shane gave Max his condolences." Paulo affirmed, snickering and brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. "Exactly how many people from RAW _have_ you slept with?" He finally inquired eyeballing the brunette. He wasn't overtly concerned about her sexual exploits for his own interests, but merely because knowing would help him narrow down which male wrestlers might be untouchable for _him_ in the future.

Vicki slammed her hand flat against Paulo's chest, pushing him to the side and out of the way completely, amidst his amused protest. She was determined to find Max and tear his head completely off of his shoulders, with her bare hands. And then she might even carry the damned thing around with her for awhile as a warning symbol to anyone who might contemplate asking her about her sex life again. Even her feet made angry sounds on the floor as she stormed down the hallway.

She body-checked a sound man, sending him along with his 'boom mic', clattering into the nearest wall. Vicki then pressed her palm forcibly against the door to the catered food area preparing to enter. The door flung open, barely missing contact with Victoria, who raised an eyebrow in warning. But Vicki matched her admonishing glare, nostrils flared, and then stalked past the Diva until she reached the table, where Max was currently regaling a group of wrestlers with tales of his last visit to the gym.

Several heads turned, signaling that someone had approached the table, and Max spun around, knowing without question who it would be. A devious smile lit his face as his condescending gaze alighted upon the slender brunette barracuda.

"Vicki, _Baby_." Max emphasized the word 'baby', and then his expression morphed from disgust to one of endearment for the purpose of suiting the crowd. His arms went out to his sides as he regarded Vicki's taciturn and confused expression. "Let's talk." His suggestion floated out, a stiff undercurrent in his tone. He then turned to Stacy who was apparently still enthralled with his story, and wiping the tears of mirth from the corner of her eyes. "Would you guys excuse me? I have to give my _'lady'_ some attention…she gets lonely easily…fiercely jealous, even."

"What the fu--" Vicki was cut off her tirade instantly quashed by the firm, insistent pressure of Max's thumb and forefinger squeezing her elbow, as he led her away from the table in his grasp.

"Uh, uh….not here, _sweetheart_." He whispered through clenched teeth and once the pair was out of earshot, he spun her around, one hand on her waist and the other clasping her slender fingers, as if he were inclined to dance with her even without the aid of music. By all outward representations Max appeared enamored of Vicki…yet inside he was unreservedly revolted and the emergence of her acrid nature had him half tempted to pick her up and toss her head-first into the nearest trash can. "We have to keep up our image, don't we?"

"Is that what you call it?" Vicki hissed, as he pulled her into a feigned embrace and shuffled his feet quite elegantly despite his size, pretending to dance with her past the catered tables, amidst a chorus of _'How cute'_ and _'Aren't they in love?'_

"You mean that's not what we've been doing this whole time?" Max smiled knowingly. "Keeping up an image? Making people think that we're something we're actually _not_?" He pretended ignorance of her escapades.

"You told everyone we were sleeping with each other." She whispered fiercely, as he dipped her willow thin body backward. "How honorable of you."

"Correction." Max said, holding her head inches above the floor in the dip and then snapping her back upward, bringing their faces millimeters apart he continued the phantom waltz. "I only told _one_ person." His eyes glimmered with contempt as he suppressed a grin, and fought to retain the last vestiges of his patience.

"Who the _hell_ might that be?" Vicki demanded as he spun her underneath his arm to the tune of a song that John Cena and several other wrestlers had now begun to hum comically for the benefit of the dancers.

Max smiled brightly as he nodded obligingly to the crowd of onlookers who were under the impression that he and his _'lady-love'_ were having a romantic moment. And then he spoke softly against the flesh above Vicki's ear. "I told _Maria_."

Vicki nearly came uncorked. Her face instantly became a mass of angry lines and angles "You told _her_?" She whispered angrily, her lips instantly forming a thing tight line. Max spun Vicki again, facing her away from the crowd so that no one would see how badly her expression had contorted. "She couldn't keep her mouth shut if she were in a coma!" Her voice was a low and putrefied growl, as he gripped her hands tightly with his so she couldn't escape his embrace.

"I know." He admitted and grinned devilishly. "Isn't it wonderful?" He held fast to her tiny hand and whittle thin waist as she made a slight move to back away, and pulled her up against him, sashaying to the left and then to the right, all the while, prompted by cheers and accolades from the staff and wrestlers.

"You're apalling." Vicki sneered as he pulled her around, spinning her body effortlessly behind a table and then past a chair.

"Nope," He tugged her close again for another mock embrace and whispered brutally, furiously into her ear. "What _you_ did, to help ruin Nancy was appalling…lying to _me_ was appalling…what I did, tonight, was something _you_ had coming!" His whisper was no longer laughable…it held a decidedly dangerous threat. "And if I didn't believe in salvation by grace, I'd bank on your works landing you in hell, right along with your conspirator!"

"So this is how you get back at me? Do you think that telling everyone we had sex is gonna gain you some favor with the boys in the back…or with Stacy or Maria?" She asked condescendingly, practically gritting her teeth. "No one wants to fuck a slovenly, overweight, no-talent, witless ass-kisser, even if he does have a trust fund."

He couldn't help but laugh. "And yet…you _did_." His remark slashed straight through her confident façade and he saw her blanch.

"I was paid to fuck you." She said heartlessly, but discreetly so that no one but Max would hear.

"Ouch…such cruelty from such beauty." Max smiled again, deflecting her admission. "But here's the good part…you _did_ fuck me…more than once…and yes, you were certainly paid…" He stepped forward and then backward, pulling her all the while in the dance. "But you're forced to keep _that_ detail a secret…you can never ever tell anyone _who_ paid you and _why_ you were paid?…because if you do, then '_Mr. Stephanie'_ will be in big trouble, facing jail time…for stealing federal documents, and so will _you_." He felt her bony body stiffen in his embrace. "Oh…that's right…you didn't know I knew about _that_." He harpooned her with a stare of mock concern, before continuing "…and if you think good old Stephanie McMahon would risk letting her hubby go to jail, over some unverifiable claim from the make-up artist, then you're dumber than you accused me of being…she'll bury you under a pile of corporate bullshit so high, that even your over-inflated 'sense of self' won't be able to see the light of day." He chuckled against her ear as he held her close, spinning around the floor of the catering area. "And because of that, people are always gonna think that you had sex with me _just_ because you wanted a little bit of the _'Big Max'_!"

Vicki was seething, and half tempted to stomp on his foot with her boot so he would release her. "If you're planning on blackmailing me…If you think I'm having sex with you again…you can forget it! There's not enough currency on the face of the planet to compensate me for enduring _that_ again!" Her voice was low as she faked a smile for the benefit of Sean Michaels who had walked in for a quick sandwich.

"Vicki?" Max began, licking his lips for emphasis and whispering. "You're a whore…and I'm so disgusted at the thought of what I did with you that I would sooner reenact scenes of _'Deliverance'_ with Gene Snitsky, before I'd ever dream of fucking you again." He glared satisfactorily at her shocked expression and then twirled her around to face the crowd of onlookers, abruptly ceasing the dance. "Looks like we have a great audience, so take a bow, Doll." He said out loud, as the small crowd began to clap for the dancers, none of them having heard a single word of the heated conversation.

Vicki extracted her hand from his, "Why don't _you_ take a bow!" She snapped, placing both of her hands on his shoulders, and then raising her knee up, she planted it forcefully into Max's groin. She then swept low for a bow from the stunned crowd and whirled around exiting the room in a flurry of cheap perfume and her own furious expletives.

Max, knelt low, his manhood throbbing and a grunt on his lips, but then he rose up as much dignity as he could muster and faced the stunned group. "Thank you." He waved in appreciation, his face beet red and his voice a guttural squawk. "I'll be here all week." He joked through his pained expression, mimicking a comedian.

"Oh, my God…Are you okay?" Stacy Keibler leaned down and grasped Max's forearm after rushing from the table to his side. "I can't believe she did that…Is she mad at you for something? Can I help you up?"

"Yeah…" Max groaned. "I think if you could just, maybe help me to the _Wardrobe_…I'll be fine." He made a good show of embellishing the pain he was in, leaning helplessly against the comforting side of the tall blonde Diva, and as the two prepared to exit he cast a wink and a conspiratorial grin toward John Cena, who simply shook his head in amusement, and gave him the thumbs up sign behind Stacy's back.

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The bright morning sunshine, glimmering through the unobstructed wall of windows pulled her from a restful sleep, but it was the irresistible smell of freshly brewed Columbian coffee, that had her raising her head up and placing her feet on the floor. Nancy searched the near vicinity for her clothing, then the walk-in closet with no results and after resigning herself to the theory that Dave would probably continue hiding them from her for years to come, she tugged the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her body, stepping out into the hallway.

Nancy smiled, when she peeked over the balcony and found him in the kitchen, leaning casually against the edge of the counter, reading the newspaper. She couldn't help but notice that he was awfully overdressed for morning paper reading, with his black slacks and a navy dress shirt, his tie not yet knotted, but draped around his collar as if he'd lost interest in it when the paper had been delivered. His suit coat was folded carefully over the back of a chair next to the dining table and his suitcase and duffel bag were packed and waiting obediently in the front entryway. Something was going on…he had somewhere to go…and suddenly Nancy felt a strange sense of urgency to find out.

Nancy found it hard to drag the air into her lungs when he raised his gaze up to the top of the landing and she caught a glimpse of his face, always intense, as if he could see inside her soul…always handsome. A grin of anticipation fulfilled played on his lips and he pulled the glasses off and tossed them on top of the counter, curling his finger so she would come down.

"You hid my clothes again." Nancy softly accused, as she arranged the bottom of the sheet behind her so she could descend the stairs.

A short laugh escaped him when he thought of how he had slid both suitcases under Audrey's bed to continue the running joke of keeping her clothing hostage until Nancy gave him what he wanted. "And yet, still you seem to find a way to cover yourself up…I guess I'll have to start hiding the bed linens too." He poured a cup of coffee for her and then sat in the dining chair, motioning for her to sit on his lap.

A dangerous proposition he knew, considering the diversion that she presented, clad only in the sheet, with the thick coil of curls he loved trailing down her barely covered back. But he had resolved to tell her what he must and now that he could see her glancing at his suitcases as she palmed the warm cup and nestled into his lap, he knew that he had to get the words out. His hand slid beneath the sheet of its own accord to rest against the warm, smooth flesh of her thigh. He listened to her sigh after she took a drink of the coffee and then she started the conversation before he could think of how to begin it himself.

"Gourmet meals at night and coffee in the morning…" She pretended curious contemplation and placed the cup on the table. "I might just never leave…" She joked lacing one arm over his shoulder, grazing the skin at the nape of his neck. "But part of me thinks all of this is just culinary bribery…and that you're buttering me up because you want something."

He laughed, because he was nervous and because like always, she could see right through him. She was waiting on it…the explanation…he could tell by the way her light eyes searched his for an answer. She adjusted herself slightly, and he felt the curve of her bottom press against his groin, sending a jolt of heat through him…making him suddenly thankful that his time constraints would force him to take action, before he lost himself in thoughts of things he couldn't indulge…not right now anyhow. "You're right…I do want something." He curled his other hand around her hip willing it to behave as he spoke. "I got a phone call from Vince McMahon yesterday afternoon." He said, as she sipped her coffee. "They're restructuring the rosters on both brands in order to bring up the ratings. It happens every year in the form of the draft lottery." He watched her nod. "John Cena was brought over to RAW…Randy Orton was sent to SmackDown…"

"I remember Randy…" Nancy mused. "I constantly had to fix his clothes."

The sudden admission of that brought back to mind a comment made once by Randy during Dave's time in Evolution about the Wardrobe girl having a nice ass. The memory suddenly irked him and brought forth a subconscious possessive reaction manifested in the form of his own hand curving firmly around her backside. "Yeah….I know." He said wryly as he arched an eyebrow and continued. "At any rate, Vince offered me a proposal to move to SmackDown and take the Championship with me." He felt her stiffen. "I accepted his offer."

The air in her lungs caught and held for what seemed like an eternity, as her eyes probed his for some indication that he might be joking. "If you go to SmackDown…" She said, willing her voice to be steady. "We'll never see each other." Was that what he'd wanted…to let her down easily?

"I know…" Dave concurred nodding. "Believe me I've already thought about that and come up with a solution." Out of reaction, he leaned in and pressed his lips teasingly against the skin of her upper arm.

"You're not going?" She inserted hopefully, seeing that as the only solution in her mind for the problem.

He chuckled, "No that's not it…" his words were muffled by her skin where his lips remained, _'Here comes the hard part'_ he silently warned himself. "I think you should come with me."

Nancy shook her head. "There's not an opening for me on SmackDown, unless you plan on plugging me as a Diva…in which case my answer's 'No'." She smiled, playing again with the hair at the thick nape of his neck.

"I know _that_." Dave said, relieved that she had relaxed again somewhat. "Here's what I came up with…" He explained, tracing a line up and down her thigh with his disobedient hand. "You can quit your job on RAW and stay right here while you rehab your shoulder…there's a clinic down the street." He began to rattle off his plan, all the while finding distraction in her skin, her hair, the cursed sheet. "It's reputable, I already called your doctor and this is the one he recommended."

Funny _he'd_ talked to her doctor…she hadn't seen the man nor spoken to him since dismissal, she prepared to interject her opinion…to tell him that she might as well stay on RAW and use the trainers, but he continued through his stream of well thought out solutions and his physical recreations, without stopping.

"When your rehab is done…six weeks at most, then you can just pack up and come on the road with me." Dave seemed satisfied with his solution, his face holding no trace of doubt that this was the right thing for the both of them to do.

"I can't just quit my job. Max needs me--" Nancy attempted to clarify, but he interrupted, with his lips, those hands…his words.

"Max is a big boy…I'm sure he'll do just fine taking over your position and I can't think of a better person to trust with the job." His teeth scraped her collarbone gently, as he attempted to gain access to what he knew was hidden beneath the sheet.

"I just committed to design a new line of fashion for Stephanie McMahon. I can't back out of that." Nancy groaned, trying to push his face up from between her breasts.

"Well, you didn't sign the contract, yet…you're not bound legally and I know if you just tell her that your life's going a different direction now, she'll understand."

"And which direction is that?" Nancy asked, waiting…on what…she didn't know. The familiar feeling of someone else taking her life by the horns and leading it into unknown territory washed over her and she began to feel nauseous.

"Same direction I'm going, I hope." He said raising his eyebrows. "You love me right? This is better for the both of us, trust me…I can't focus on what I need to be doing on SmackDown, if I'm constantly worried about what may or may not be happening to you on RAW and as long as I know you're here safe or somewhere in the same arena or even in a hotel near the venue I can breathe easy. I won't have my head in the game if I'm wondering where you are all the time." He wished his admission could have been eloquent as his rehearsal had been, wished it could have included the one important thing he knew she needed, but she was the one woman in his life whose presence rattled him and the mere thought of her rejection scared the hell out of him and so he'd left out the one thing he'd planned on asking her.

_'Then why leave Raw at all?'_ She thought to herself, but didn't have the courage to ask. His answer hadn't been what she'd wanted to hear, hadn't been what she thought he'd wanted to say. "Dave, I don't think I can quit my job, I just--" again her words were cut short.

"I'm not saying you'd have to be jobless…Seattle is full of design firms, you could get a job later if you want…or not…the little details aren't important right now…we can hash those out another time." She started to speak again, but he shook his head. "Don't answer just yet…" He said, placing one long finger on her lips. "Think about it today…sleep on it tonight and then we can talk about it tomorrow afternoon when I get back." His jaw clenched reflexively as he glanced at his watch and noticed the time. "Damn, I'm gonna be late." He pulled his hand from under the sheet, after squeezing her thigh one last time.

"Where do you have to go?" She asked as he motioned her up, and then pulled her by the sheet so that she was facing him.

"I have a meeting with Vince and a promotional photo shoot." He pushed the curls over her shoulder, remiss to leave her. "I remembered what you said about Clark Kent, the very first time we had breakfast. I mentioned it to Vince…he liked the idea and so they've decided to use it for the basis of the entire photo shoot." He could sense her discomfort, assuming it was because she was being left alone in a new place. "I'll be 90 miles away, that's all and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon in time for Audrey's birthday party."

"I just wished we had more time to talk." Nancy pulled the sheet closer around her, suddenly feeling a little out of place.

The fact that she was taking a step backward and her face had suddenly fallen let him know that she was dubious about his plan, even though he knew that he could make it work out far better than he had made it sound. "I'll be back tomorrow before three and we'll go to Audrey's party and then I'll help you write out your resignation…then after…" He tugged her forcefully back up against him by taking hold of a handful of the sheet. "We can go upstairs and work out the details." He brushed his lips across hers, knowing that he couldn't fall into the middle of what he wanted to do with her this minute. Vince would _not_ wait on him…even if _she_ would.

Nancy watched him slide his arms into his suit coat and palm his keys, save for the one that he pulled out of the pocket of his slacks and handed to her. "I'm taking the car so if you have to go anywhere the number to the cab company I use is in the drawer by the phone…here's your key." She curled her fingers around the warm metal, her deflated spirit resting like a stagnate weight in her chest. "I'm only gone, for just over 24 hours…24 torturous hours." He admitted ruefully, reaching out to pluck one curl and watch it bounce back. "Keep the door locked while I'm gone."

With a few more parting words…a few more insubordinate forays with his hands, he was out on the porch, slipping his sunglasses down over his eyes. He turned to her with a wicked grin. "I suppose you want to know where your clothes are."

"I do." Nancy said, realizing with misery just how true her statement was.

"Your suitcases are under Audrey's bed."

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She watched the Ferrari back out of the driveway and proceed down the street and then she began a battle with her inner voice.

'_He wants to hide you away from the world'_ The voice announced cruelly.

She turned the key over in her palm as she glanced timidly around the huge space that clearly was not her home. He'd mentioned that the 'solution' of his was the best thing for both of them, he'd pointed out how it would ease _his_ mind to have her someplace where he could keep his eyes on her, but not once had he mentioned how it would benefit _her_. And it was him she wanted, without a doubt, but not because of his chivalrous obligation to protect her, and not because he needed to keep tabs on her to keep from losing sleep.

She let the sheet drop to the floor of the master bedroom after she'd retrieved a bath towel and wrapped it around her body. She continued trying to push the suspicions from her mind. But words too strong to ignore invaded her peace, giving her sorrowful pause.

_'Dave might be willing to invest a lot of time and resources into you now, but as soon as he sees that huge flaw in you, mark my words…he's going to be ashamed.'_

Triple H had told her countless weeks ago.

'…_he might keep you around for a while because he's noble, but he'll keep you hidden on the back burner so nobody knows who you really are.'_

She paced the bedroom, trying to shake the uncertainty that was shrouding her. How could she not believe some of what he had said? Wasn't Dave asking her to quit her job and stay here in the background? He might have presented it under the guise of a need to keep her safe, but he was pulling her out of the light just the same.

_'…he won't hold you up and be proud that you're his…because you'll ruin his life if he puts you on display.'_

Triple H was right. It was happening just the way he'd said, wasn't it? Dave might still want her, but for how long? And what would happen if she quit her job, to traverse the country with him as little more than a piece of entertaining baggage and then he decided he was tired of her? What would she do then? She would have already burned a bridge that could have led her to countless opportunities. Nancy couldn't let that happen…she couldn't devote everything she was to a man who wanted her allegiance and companionship without any sort of commitment whatsoever.

_'…people who have been hurt like you have been tend to love people more deeply, and sadly you tend to hurt people more deeply…'_

Nancy did love him, and he had said he loved her, but _he_ was free to back out of the deal at any point if he so chose and _she_ would be left to go crawling back to Max asking for help. He hadn't really left her any other alternative but to do what he thought was best, hadn't asked her if she would be willing to do it…even offering to help her write up her resignation…he'd just assumed that she would have seen it the same way he did…and she didn't.

Nancy was in tears as she tugged the suitcases out from under Audrey's bed, and rummaged through them for her clothing. She donned a pair of beat up jeans and a loose fitting sweater not inclined in the slightest to dress up, she was nearly blinded by a veil of hot tears, digging for her socks when she came across his blue dress shirt…the one she had mended for him the night he'd apologized because of Christy…the night they ridden together. She ran her fingernail across the slit that she had stitched…all the while with him mere feet away, obliterating her focus and sending her poise into a tailspin…She really should return it, she thought, holding it up to her nose so she could catch his scent, but she couldn't…she didn't have the heart to…and so she folded it and stuffed it down into the bottom of her suitcase, knowing that it might be the only thing she had to remember him by, and if he wanted it back, well then he would just have come ask for it.

Nancy made his bed, smoothing out the wrinkles and then she straightened up his kitchen, erasing any sign that she had been there. She then dragged her suitcases to the front door with her uninjured arm, palming her cell phone and rummaging through the drawer of the phone table for the number to the cab company.

Nancy stood outside until the taxi arrived and then stepped back inside and took one last look around to make sure that she hadn't left anything on. Turning, she locked the door and glanced at the shiny new key in her hand, he must have had it cut for her when he brought her here…she could change her mind…throw caution to the wind and try to ride it out, couldn't she?…He loved her…she loved him…

"Ma'am? The meter's running." The driver said, slamming the trunk shut after loading her bags.

Nancy nodded, feeling hot tears prickling against the back of her eyelids. "Okay." She began to chew the inside of her lip, and the tears dripped unchecked from her lashes down over her quivering lips as she knelt beside the door and opened the mail slot, dropping the key back inside. She heard the metal key hit the cold concrete floor and bounce before coming to a rest, but she could have sworn that it was just the sound of her heart clattering to halt…she turned on her heel and trudged down the porch steps, slid into the back of the taxi slumping down in the seat and covering her face as the cab pulled away from the curb.

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He was thankful that the photo shoot would be over shortly…the hot lights were sapping his energy and he was terribly anxious to get to his phone so he could call home. Throughout the monotonous morning drive and the meeting with Vince, as well as the overlong photo shoot, he'd found himself wondering what Nancy might be doing at various given moments. He enjoyed thinking of her in the tub with his MP3 player, or on his sofa watching television…or even in his bed…

"Sir…" The photographer prompted a third time. "Sir?"

"I'm sorry." Dave cleared his throat and went through the scripted motions once more but from a different angle this time, taking off the glasses that he knew she loved, loosening the tie remembering that she was better at tying one than he was, finally opening the suit jacket to reveal the Superman Logo.

"That's great." The photographer announced. "That'll do it, thank you."

Glad to finally be given a dismissal, Dave glanced at his watch, noticing that it was just after five o'clock. He didn't bother changing out of the photo shoot clothing first, instead he lifted his phone and spoke the word "Home" into the receiver, listening for the auto-dialer to kick in. After the 4th ring, the machine picked up and after the tone he spoke.

"I know you're there…" He smiled, his voice deep and liquid. "Maybe you're in the bathtub with the headphones on, and that's why you can't hear the phone…or maybe…you're in the bed…with no clothes on…" He murmured playfully, placing the image in his mind's eye along with his words. Deciding he'd better stop his erotic chatter before he ended up sprouting a hard-on, he quickly quashed his naughty dialogue. "I'll call you tonight after the Smackdown debut taping, love you." He snapped the phone shut and checked his watch again, deciding that maybe she'd opted out of trying to cook and had gone down the street for something to eat.

Dave shucked the clothing from the photoshoot, oblivious of all of the wandering eyes around him and then slid back into his own clothing, preparing for the short drive to the arena for his Smackdown debut taping. Eager to arrive and see Teddy Long again, shake Randy Orton's hand and mesh himself into the camaraderie that he missed, he snatched up his keys, then he saluted the photography team and slipped out of the studio.

He wasn't in fear of why she hadn't answered the phone, he'd simply been hoping that she would, so he could tell her again how much he'd enjoyed having her there this week. This morning was fresh in his mind—with her in his lap, against him, the both of them nervous, on the threshold of something very new—he'd known that this was what he wanted. It was something that he could get used to experiencing every morning of his life.

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The plane touched down on the tarmac, and the stewardess streamed through her announcements, including the current time and the weather in Denver. Nancy waited until more than half of the people around her had deplaned, so that she wouldn't risk jarring her shoulder, and then she extracted her carry-on bag and shuffled down the aisle of the plane and out into the passenger waiting area. A familiar face caught her eye, and though she put on a brave face, Max's mother Jean could see right through it and the look of pity on her face, made Nancy's eyes burn with tears. She had called from the Taxi and explained some of what was going on to Jean, rather than calling Max directly. Jean had insisted that she fly to the ranch immediately and finish her recovery there, telling her that she would be able to gain a better perspective of the situation if she wasn't right there in the middle of it.

"Oh, Nancy." Jean hugged her shoulders and took the carry-on bag from her hand. "I promise it'll all look better after we go shopping." Jean had never had a daughter of her own, just a son who was a human whirlwind. Her only consolation had been that someday Max would hopefully marry and give her grandchildren and then along had come Max's friendship with Nancy. At first Jean and her husband Don had hoped that it would eventually become more than a friendship, but after some time, they had both resigned themselves to the fact that she and Max were more suited as duplicate goofballs than as lifetime partners. Jean always teased the two, saying that they had done God a favor by saving some energy, being as they both seemed to operate off of the same brain.

Jean appreciated the fact that her son's friendship was based on just that…friendship. She enjoyed the playful banter that was a constant part of the dialogue the two shared. Jean always remarked that Nancy and Max had a limitless off the cuff repartee that would have put _'Saturday Night Live'_ comedians to shame, and she'd repeatedly had to call the two of them down for running throughout the ranch, throwing things at one another and generally behaving like overexcited siblings. And with any hope of Max making Jean a grandmother, fizzling further away into the future, Nancy was the closest thing to a daughter-in-law she might ever be able to spoil.

Nancy stood there in the airport, just content to let Jean hold her. She wouldn't cry, not here, not in public, but she would gladly immerse herself in the embrace. Jean was everything that embodied true motherhood. She smelled like a Mom was supposed to smell and Nancy breathed deeply, she could have sworn she smelled cinnamon in Jean's hair. Nancy also loved the soft lilt of Jean's voice. It was everything that a mother's voice should be like. Jean's was smooth and confident, with the distinct pitch that hinted toward her Canadian heritage, and the strong arms attached to the thin woman's body circled Nancy and gave her a genuine sense of motherly protection.

"I don't wanna put you out, Jean." Nancy said, her voice lifeless as she pulled back from the woman. "If you guys have something going on I can get a hotel."

"Always such a joker." Jean smiled and brushed the curls away from the sides of her face. "We always have something going on…we just never leave the ranch." She jested, with a wink. She took note of the tired green eyes. "You know what you need before we ride out for the house?" Jean commented.

"No, what?" Nancy smiled weakly, as she felt the warm smoothness of Jean's hand clasping hers.

"You need a facial." Jean announced, leading Nancy toward baggage claim.

"Jean, you don't have to…I'm really tired." Nancy protested, thoroughly relishing the prospect of burying her face in a soft and fluffy pillow and never reemerging.

"Nooo, you're not tired…and even if you are a facial will help." Jean began, "It's not good for you to isolate yourself…and I just know I read somewhere that the best therapy for an injured shoulder is a couple of heavy shopping bags, even if you're not the one carrying them." She winked at Nancy and let go of her hand long enough to pull the two suitcases off of the carousel and load them onto a rolling cart.

Nancy smiled and shook her head, glancing at the thin mid-fifties woman, loading her luggage onto the cart without asking for help from anyone, when she was wealthy enough that she could have paid someone to do anything she wanted. Independent, fulfilled and secure…Jean Hadaway was everything that Nancy wished she could be. But Jean was a wife and a mother, a competent business woman, helping to run a multi-million dollar cattle ranch and a profitable jewelry making business. She was balancing family and career at the same time and had done both beautifully. Nancy wondered if she'd ever had doubts about her husband Don…wondered if she'd ever walked away from something she loved…like Nancy had done mere hours ago.

She followed behind Jean as the woman led her through a throng of people and out into the parking garage to a newer Chevy Suburban with the Hadaway family name and a Circle H brand symbol painted on the side doors, along with a phone number and a commercial vehicle license number below it. Max and his family had always been proud of the livelihood that the family had chosen. The cattle ranch was a fifth generation family industry and had been responsible for Max's ability to indulge his whims without fear of poverty.

Once inside of the vehicle, Nancy leaned back in the front seat and clasped her lap belt, immediately changing the radio station from country to classical. Jean only grinned with the challenge and pushed the button switching it back…Nancy changed the station again and the two continued the nonverbal teasing for the next couple of miles, until Jean gently squeezed Nancy's hand and then demanded in a soft motherly tone of voice. "Maybe if you tell me what's bothering you, you'll feel better…besides…it'll kill time between here and the day spa." Jean smiled. "You know you can trust me."

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Backstage, shaking hands with Eddie Guerrero and Chris Benoit, Dave conveyed his eagerness to work with them now that he was a part of the Smackdown roster. And though his exterior was polished and reserved, on the inside, he was a mass of nerves. He'd called home earlier than he'd originally told her on the machine and still she hadn't answered the phone. Dave began to wonder if he'd even left the ringer on, suddenly remembering that he'd shut it off the day they'd arrived, so she wouldn't be disturbed during recovery. But then he must have turned it back on or else Angie wouldn't have been able to call and let him know the time of Audrey's party, nor would Vince have been able to let him know of the Roster change. So a silent ringer couldn't explain why Nancy hadn't picked up the phone in almost 12 hours.

"Dinner?" Randy asked, snatching Dave out of his worrisome reverie. "Several of us are heading out just now…maybe hitting a club afterward…whaddya say?" He clapped a large hand on Dave's shoulder and quirked one dark eyebrow, hinting at old time's antics.

Dave frowned, glancing for the thousandth time at his watch…it was almost 10:00 p.m. "Maybe just dinner." He nodded toward Randy, accepting only the first portion of the invite. Dave was reluctant to go to another club with his good friend, knowing that he would spend a fair portion of his time in the club watching his wallet and guarding his assets from half a dozen of Randy's female fan following.

"Oh, that's right." Randy grinned in the ever familiar, knowing and arrogant way that tended to rile people who weren't well acquainted with him. "You have a little something…um, say late twenty's, curly hair…nice ass, waiting on you at home…don't you?" He knew the comment about her ass would incite some biting retort from his former Evolution pal, and it did…followed by a laugh. "I almost missed seeing the rusted ball and chain hanging out from beneath your pant leg." Randy teased. "But there it is." He leaned over and pretended to inspect Dave's leg.

Dave laughed again, not so bothered by the knowledge that he was off of the market again. "At least I'm not still sharing my bed with a bottle of lotion, and nursing a hand cramp in the morning."

"That's harsh, bro." Randy followed Dave out of the locker room and down the hallway toward the parking garage, grinning when he saw Dave lift his cell phone to make yet another call.

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The esthetician removed two cucumber slices from Nancy's eyes and then replaced them with cotton pads moistened with herbal facial oil, and then after another few blissful moments of reclining on the plush seat, the woman spritzed her face with floral water and removed the herbal-infused bentonite clay.

"You have wonderful skin." The esthetician remarked.

"Doesn't she?" Jean piped up in agreement, from beneath the cover of her hot towel facial-wrap. "I plan on marketing her facial regimen, as soon as I'm able to spy on her and find out if it's skincare or good genetics."

The woman laughed, adorned her skin with toner and gently spread a moisturizer on Nancy's face, instructing her to lie back for a few more moments to give her skin time to absorb the moisture. "I think it's genetics and lack of stress…these young ladies have no clue how easy life is before you start having kids."

Nancy knew the woman was only joking, but the off handed comment reminded her of how truly far away from that facet of life she had just thrust herself by running away from the man she loved.

Jean raised her head and pushed the towel aside, motioning the woman to hand her a dry towel. "Nancy, I think we need coffee before we go any further, what do you think?" The woman finished Jean's facial and the two women left the spa in search of a Star Buck's.

"Thank you for today." Nancy said, glancing askance toward Jean. She sipped her latte and watched the older woman twirl the three carat diamond solitaire on her left finger as if it were a toy ring. "I was planning on sleeping until life got better."

"I know that...you would have been in bed until the Second Coming of Christ" Jean said. "Life's not half bad for you Nancy…our perspectives of things tend to clear up when we have some time away from them…but not _too_ much time…or else you run the risk of losing the very thing you're trying to figure out—I did that once."

Nancy's head snapped up and she arched a brow in surprise. "You did?" She couldn't imagine Jean in any other life than the one she currently commanded and so to hear the woman admit that she had lost someone she loved took Nancy completely off guard.

"Now, don't get me wrong…I love Don with my whole heart and I wouldn't trade Max for a handful of normal boys…" Jean's smile waned and her eyes clouded as she began to hash out the memory. "But I let go of someone I was madly in love with because I was prideful and dumb…and dead set on hearing what I wanted to hear. I took a step back from my relationship to see if I could get a different view of the whole thing and while I was checking out all of the angles, in swooped Miss Tara Cunningham-Fayville."

"Who was _that_?" Nancy asked, contorting her face in confusion.

"A well bred, high-society, Manitoban with a penchant for poor farm boys." Jean smiled, delicately swept a stray lock from her face and sipped her own cappuccino. "Now I _know_ that 'fate' and the 'will of God' play a bigger part than do 'time' and the 'hand of man', but I can't help but wonder what might have happened if I hadn't purposely walked away from the love of my life, just because he didn't fit the mold I had created in my own mind."

"Did Don fit that mold?" Nancy ventured to ask.

"Hell no, he didn't!" Jean laughed placing her cup gently on the table and leaning forward. "But if you think I was making the same mistake twice in a lifetime, you're crazy. And look where it got me…I have a son who constantly keeps me entertained with his antics, And I have a handsome husband who can't keep his hands off of me, even after 37 years of marriage…" Nancy laughed and looked away in embarrassment. "And I have an experience that I can share with someone I consider a friend." Jean reached across the table and clasped Nancy's hand. "I think that you know what you need to do…and I think that you're a smart girl and you know that you don't have a lot of time to waste in doing it." Jean winked when she locked gazes with Nancy, realizing that the young girl had caught the brunt of what she had been trying to convey. "Now let's go find a new outfit…because I'm not taking you to breakfast tomorrow with the girls, unless I can show you off…maybe even pass you off as my daughter-in-law."

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Dave leaned against the wall next to the entryway of the 24-hour hotel restaurant, and held his cell phone to his ear, listening to the familiar and annoying unanswered ring. It was almost midnight and he was beginning to think something was very wrong. Nancy's cell phone was turned off, and he'd only been able to leave a voicemail message.

"Nancy, I'm beginning to get worried…" Dave sighed in frustration. "Things went very well tonight with the Smackdown taping…" He rolled his eyes and spun to face the wall when he saw Randy mimicking the ball and chain from the table. "I know it's late but I haven't been able to reach you at either number…all day…" He smiled, trying to envision her sleeping…maybe _she_ had turned the ringer off…that had to be it…she was in his bed sleeping like a baby, he just knew it…and she'd be there in the afternoon, ready to go to Audrey's party with him. "If I don't hear from you first thing in the morning…then you're in _big_ trouble…" He then proceeded to describe for her in mischievous detail all of the delicious punishments he could possibly inflict, before telling the voicemail box "Goodnight." And snapping his phone shut.

Dave Batista, normally the picture of complete confidence, was irritated and anxious beyond normalcy. He made his way back to the table, trying to cloak himself in calm, but then visions of her falling and hitting her head whilst trying to get out of the tub, or taking a tumble down the stairs, began to mingle through his cluttered brain, alongside thoughts of her being accosted and left for dead in the street on her way back from dinner. "Son of a bitch." He muttered, tugging the chair out so he could sit back down.

"Not answering, huh?" Randy said snapping his teeth down on a breadstick, as they waited impatiently for the hotel restaurant to serve the late dinner. "Maybe she turned the ringer off so you would leave her alone." He mused.

"That's what I thought." Dave said pushing the breadsticks away.

"You mentioned that the two of you had a pretty serious discussion today?" Randy asked, as he nodded and winked at a young waitress.

"Yep." Dave clenched his jaw, pushing the nightmarish images out of his head and replacing them with the vision of Nancy sleeping soundly.

"Well, maybe she thought that she needed one full day of silence and solitude to process whatever it was that you two talked about?" He hinted toward Dave for more information, but when none came he continued. "Women are like that, Bro…they get all worked up over things we think are simple and then they get wound up like a spinning top…and you just have to give 'em time and peace and quiet to come back down and see things eye to eye." He motioned with his hand like a tornado in the air and then shrugged his shoulders.

Dave frowned and swallowed deeply from his water glass. "And you became an expert on these things, when?" He chomped a piece of ice in frustration. "You're experience with women begins with 'Hi, I'm Randy' and ends somewhere between the morning buffet and a phone number scrawled on a cocktail napkin." He offered, dryly.

Randy laughed heartily when his friend referred to his one night stands and numerous sexual escapades. "Hey, I've called some of them back, albeit from different cities." He said laughing. "I'm just saying…that women don't see things the same way we do, and so if you had a life changing conversation right before you left, then she might just be needing some time in solitude to deal with whatever it is you talked about." Again he hinted toward the mystery conversation and again Dave withheld the pertinent details. Randy watched his friend mutilate his thumbnail with his teeth, and check his watch for the 10th time since being seated. "_Damn_, Dave…if you're that worried that something horrific happened to her, then take off…why spend the night here? Just go."

"I can't, I have another 'still shoot' tomorrow and a couple of motion shots in front of a blue-screen…I can't leave until noon." He announced, letting out a breath of irritation. Dave was suddenly wishing he'd made her come along after dropping the bombshell in her lap.

"Well, then I think it's only right that you should put yourself through the ringer and be thoroughly miserable with a whiskey & coke in your hand, while watching me attempt to score at the club, as opposed to being completely miserable back in the hotel room…by yourself." Randy grinned arrogantly as the entrees were placed in front of them. "Thanks Sweetheart." He said politely and seductively to the young waitress, who smiled coyly and then went away after discreetly slipping a small piece of paper under the rim of Randy's plate.

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Nancy sat in the bed, propped up on several pillows, turning the cell phone over in her hands. She glanced around the room that was considered to be hers whenever she came to stay at the ranch. Unlike the larger main areas of the house which were adorned with deep, rich, wood accents and decidedly, masculine rusticity, _this_ room had been prepared with an undeniably feminine taste in mind. The walls were a soft muted white as were the linens, save for the gentle blue floral accents, deeper Navy stripes and cream and azure toiles. Yards and yards of flowing fabric and thick downy coverlets had been used as the bedding. Plantation shutters could be closed to keep out the sight of a snowstorm in winter and opened wide to let in the breeze in the spring and summer. The room was spacious with barrel vaulted ceilings and honey colored wide plank wooden floors, covered in plush area rugs, but despite it immense size it felt inordinately cozy. Being in the room was akin to a hug from a grandmother…she loved it, always had…but as beautiful as the room was, Nancy knew she'd rather be somewhere else.

Nancy was hesitant to turn the phone back on, wondering if she would be met with the illuminating icon that signaled a box full of voicemail messages, and so she placed the phone on the nightstand and snapped the lamp off, pulling his shirt against her chest breathing in the scent of him. A split second later, she snapped the lamp back on and sat straight up once more. She reached out and snatched the phone up, her heart beating fiercely in anticipation. Pressing the button on her phone turning it on, she watched the dancing Sony logo give way to the familiar wallpaper background, and then up popped the '_missed calls'_ icon, along with the '_voicemail'_ indicator. Her lip was sore from chewing it as she dialed the number to retrieve her voicemails. Dave's deep and liquid voice invoked a feeling of emptiness, guilt and pain. She'd left him without the benefit of an explanation on one of the more important days of his life…she didn't deserve someone like him. And there he was, telling her voicemail box all of the things he was going to do to her if she didn't call him back, things she wished she could be there for…he sounded worried and loving all at the same time.

Nancy realized, when glancing at the time, that she'd just barely missed his call…she could call him back…she could try to talk to him, but how would he react, when he had been thinking this entire time that she was in his home, not knowing that she'd flown to Colorado, little more than a couple of hours after he'd left her this morning? Likely he would be furious with her deception and tell her that he was through with her…she may have already done too much damage. And like Jean she would be left waiting on 'fate' and the 'will of God' for a second chance.


	32. Chapter 31

Uncommon Sense Chapter 31  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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It's not foresight or hindsight we need. We need sight, plain and simple. We need to see what is right in front of us.

**Real Live Preacher**, Weblog, April 22, 2003  
_Anonymous author of _

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He wheeled the Ferrari into the driveway, ignoring the slight scrape of the undercarriage as it went over the slope. Not bothering with removing his luggage, Dave Batista stepped out of the car and shut the door, having already deduced that Nancy had neglected to answer his calls, either because she was not there or because she was teasing him for leaving her there by herself. And even though deep down he knew it was the former rather than the latter, he still held the hope that she would be somewhere inside waiting for him when he opened the door.

His key slid into the lock met with the nondescript sound of metal on metal and then he swung the heavy wooden door inward, speaking her name once and being rewarded with the echo of his own voice. And somehow he knew there would be no answer…knew that she wouldn't be there. The house held a decidedly different feel than it had for the past week. It was cold, forbidding the same way it had been before her. A glance toward the mail slot, did nothing but confirm for him what he already knew, a pile of junk mail and bills, scattered about the concrete floor. It was further evidence of her absence because he knew that she would have at least picked it up had she been there to do so.

A heavy sigh couldn't expel the thick and heated weight in his chest, and lifting the scattered envelopes from the floor, he came upon the key. It scraped the ground as he lifted it with two fingers and turned it over in his hand, and what had started as disappointment, boiled over into the pre-stages of an adult temper-fit.

"Dammit." He grumbled, stuffing the key into his pocket. Hadn't he done everything he knew to reassure her that she was what he wanted? Hadn't he been clear? Had she been lying when she told him she loved him? She'd not left a note…nor had she left a message, he realized after checking the machine and finding only his messages neatly stored in the main box, where they had only just now been retrieved. She hadn't been answering his calls because she hadn't been here, he was certain she'd probably left shortly after he had…and he would bet his right arm that he knew exactly where she was. And in his blind aggravation, he had half a mind to fly straight to that ranch, spank her ass and drag her back kicking and screaming. But there were two reasons why he couldn't…one was the sheer realization that he didn't know why in the hell she'd left to begin with…whether he'd done something or whether she was just running scared. And the other was that his daughter's 6th Birthday celebration was slated to start in less than a half hour.

Mumbling curses that would have sent his mother into a frenzy, he tossed the junk mail down angrily on the entryway table and stepped outside He was preparing to lock the door that he had just slammed with wall crumbling force, but a glimmer in the sunshine, just below the threshold caught his eye. Bending down, next to the mail slot, he determined the source of the twinkle. It was her diamond…on the ground, the slender broken chain still attached. He might have missed it had it not been so unusually sunny outside. He sighed, the heaviness in his chest becoming evermore cumbersome, and lifted the tiny diamond and broken chain up between two fingers, eyeing it closely. He really should give it back to her, he told himself…but she wasn't answering his calls, so he would keep it safe for her and if she wanted it, well then she could just come ask for it.

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"Oh no…" Nancy muttered, shuffling through her make-up bag and then checking her neck for the thousandth time for her diamond. But it was gone and there was no way of determining where or when she had actually lost it. She silently reprimanded herself for having bought the slender chain when she'd had the tiny diamond placed in the setting, knowing that it would put her at risk for losing the treasured keepsake. The diamond had come from her father's tie-tack, the one she'd managed to steal from her mother's jewelry box and hide. She could remember the discussion between Eddie and her mother about the price it would fetch if they pawned it…how much it might be worth. Nancy hadn't been able to bear the thought of another one of her father's things being lost, stolen or sold for drug money and so she'd slipped out of her bedroom window with a roll of toilet paper and some matches, and quickly stuffed the roll in between the fence posts and set it on fire. The fence had gone up into flames, dragging her mother and Eddie outside, creating a long enough distraction for Nancy to slip back through her window and steal the tie-tack from the jewelry box, hiding it by tossing it into the bushes below her window for retrieval the next day. Now the diamond was gone…and all she had left of her father were the pictures.

Nancy could hear Jean calling for her from downstairs, her musical voice floating up from the lower level and she snatched up her purse to go along, unaware of the conspiracy that the old woman and her friends had conjured up. In a fitted pale cream sundress and blue sweater, Nancy appeared to be completely pulled together…a perfect picture on the outside even if the inside appeared to have been hit with a wrecking ball. Her hair was upswept, with the rebellious tendrils that would never have stayed in line falling in ringlets around her face, and only the slight puffiness under eyes betrayed her silent attempt to appear poised.

"Is that her?" One elegant socialite asked in hushed tones.

Jean leaned in to whisper something to the woman, as another in the group, nodded and affirmed. "That's the one."

"Oh I see…" said another. "She's the one."

Nancy arched a brow as she stepped off of the final riser, toward the whispering women and finally held her arms out to her sides. "I'm 'the one'…_what_?" She asked and let her quizzical gaze travel from one woman to the next.

"Oh, nothing, Sweety." Jean remarked, but not before Nancy noticed the pitiable glance she gave to the women in the group, who all at present were staring regretfully in her direction. Jean twisted Nancy around, facing away from the group, but allowing her voice to be heard. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"I'm fine…just hungry." Nancy was suspect of Jean's attitude around the group of females, and upon being pinned with the curious glances from the group she couldn't help wonder what Jean might have told them.

"Poor girl…I'm surprised she even has an appetite." Jean told the group as she wrapped one lean arm over Nancy's shoulders and gave a brief squeeze. She ushered Nancy ahead of herself toward Eva Rodebeck's garish French Pink Hummer. "Climb in, Nancy…we'll get you fed and then right back here and in bed."

All of the ladies murmured their agreement, and filed into the massive vehicle, prepared to take Aspen by storm, literally.

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Composing his demeanor, trying to divest himself of the anger and confusion before going into his daughter's party was harder than he might have thought. Visions of tracking Nancy down and handcuffing himself to her long enough to get her to talk to him trickled through his conscience, fueled by a constant dialogue from the inner animal, telling him that he had been foolish to trust her. He lifted the diamond again and his jaws clenched with conflict as he debated whether he should just mail it back to her or tell her he had it and hold it hostage the same way he had done with her clothing. Nancy would come for it if she knew he had it, of that he was sure…for she had worn it constantly save for when the nurse had handed it to him during her surgery and surely she was missing it. He slipped the diamond over the rearview mirror, affixing the broken chain so that it held and suspended, twirling and coaxing the sunlight into a dance across the dash. It only reminded him of how it caught the light when it lay in the hollow of her throat, and incited a sudden sharp pain in his heart mixed with a flash of anger…leaving it there as a reminder of her was torment…but he wouldn't take it down…not yet.

A dark-haired, well armored Audrey came bounding down the front steps and skidding around the front end of the car, determined to be the first to engage her father's attentions.

"Daddy! You _have_ to hurry…there's a bunch of my friends here and there's this piñata that Mom got and I don't know what it's full of, and there's cake, only why did you tell her I like _Nemo_? Because he's on there and I hate him, just like I hate him on my swimsuit!" Audrey had her father pinned inside the vehicle, as she was currently trying to wriggle into the front seat with him. "Did you know that Vanessa got to invite some of her friends here even though she's not a birthday girl? How come she got to do that? I never got to like those big girls anyhow because they lock me out of her room when they spend the night and then I have to fix 'em when they do that." She was out of breath, tugging on his clothes, trying to extract answers from him at light speed, all the while with the both of them wedged like sardines in the front seat.

"We're never gonna get out of this car, if you don't hop down." He ruffled her hair and grinned as she scrambled back out of the car, affording him the opportunity to get out himself. He closed the door and turned in time for her to slam against his leg nearly putting him off balance, wrapping her arms around his muscular leg and standing on his foot.

Audrey commanded her father to walk and with one arm around her shoulders, her entire tiny body perched on his foot, he dragged her with a gimp toward the steps and then swept her up in his arms to carry her into the house.

"Talk to Mommy about _Nemo_, please…because I _do_ hate him and every time I see that cake I wanna smash it." Audrey whispered wrapping her willowy arms around her father's thick neck.

"Be nice." Dave said softly and let her down in time for his oldest daughter to scoot up under his other arm for a hug of her own.

Hey Daddy." Vanessa smiled and then half a dozen of her starry eyed teenaged friends began to ogle him from a distance. "I wore my swimsuit to Amber Lawson's party…everyone loved it and Amber's mom asked if I could talk to Nancy about making one for Amber…Do you think she would?"

Dave breathed in…another reminder of her…and he was glad he hadn't told his daughters that she would come, because they might have been hurt by her no-show. He smiled down on Vanessa. "We'll see okay." His words were lackluster and devoid of promise…He didn't feel like delving into a discussion of a sensitive nature with his teenage daughter.

"Is she okay?" Vanessa whispered. "Because I was watching that match…Mom made Audrey leave the room the minute the match was over…but that looked real, Dad, and Mom said that _you_ said her shoulder was hurt." He could gauge a measure of concern in Vanessa's eyes and tone.

"She's fine." He said politely trying to end the conversation…and she sure as hell had to be fine! Without a doubt she was in good enough shape to traipse across several states without even telling him. "Let's go see if your mom needs help."

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Nancy was wedged between Patricia Simmons, wife of the Mayor of Leadville and Dora Boyer the wife of a Colorado Springs entrepreneur, suffocating on a mix of Chanel no.5 and Yves St. Laurent. Had not these women ever heard the cardinal rule shared between females, that you either wore the same cologne or at least harbored the knowledge that colognes should not clash when in the company of one another? Her eyes were fairly watering before the pink Hummer full of chattering female socialites had even left the 400 acre ranch. And Nancy was certainly content to be left out of the unceasing conversation if it meant that she could at least try to occupy her mind with something that would divert the focus off of the fact that the heat had been turned up to such a stifling degree that a fine sheen of sweat was already forming on her upper lip.

Knowing that her request for the heat to be turned down would never be heard above the loud prattle, Nancy simply sat back and prepared to endure the half hour ride from the expansive cattle ranch into the tiny tourist town for breakfast and shopping under the forced captivity of Jean Hadaway and her pals. The unwelcome recipient of several sharp, unintentional elbows to the rib, Nancy began to pray in earnest for God to rescue her. It was worse than any wrestling match could have ever been…it was like being sandwiched between two magazine cologne samples with no hope of escape.

By the time the vehicle full of babbling females pulled into the streets of Aspen and found a parking space in front of a small café, Nancy's ears were ringing, her nose and eyes were burning having not gotten used to the pungent, clashing perfumes, and she had half a mind to strip down to her skivvies and stand in the street just to cool off. Once Patricia had stepped from the truck, Nancy practically fell out behind her in her own hurry to get out. Immediately she stripped off the sweater and let the cool air rush over her heated, clammy skin.

"Good Lord." She mumbled breathing in deeply, thankful for the fresh mountain air…oblivious to the arched brows and conspiratorial grins exchanged between the women behind her back.

"Let's go gals!" Dora demanded without offering a respite, snatching hold of Nancy's arm and tugging her toward the door of the café.

"Hurry so we can get a table in the back." Jean chimed in, cheerily.

The women entered the café, already bustling with people. It held all the charm one might have expected of a small town café, with its crumbling plaster on the walls, left to expose the brick underneath. The cobblestone floors so closely matched the cobblestone of the street outside it appeared as though the small café had been erected directly on top of the street sometime in primeval days. Bulky wrought iron lanterns had been re-wired to light the café adequately and several of the rickety shutters on the front windows had been opened wide to let in the sun and weather.

Two tables in the back of the café had been pushed together upon Jean's last minute reservation so as to accommodate the wealthy socialites and their unsuspecting prey. Nancy was promptly seated in the middle on one long side, and surrounded once again by the two cologne clashers, who rapidly dragged their chairs so closely to Nancy that she found herself once again sandwiched. Jean rattled off a drink order for herself and Nancy, but when Nancy told the waiter to change her beverage to coffee, Jean objected and loudly reminded her that coffee was bad for her skin and hair and that she should stick with the tea. Nancy conceded, with a slight frown…wishing for the coffee if for no other reason than that she could have something strong enough to overpower the ghastly fragrance of the women beside her.

Before the drinks had a chance to arrive, Bella Hampstead a neurologist from Denver, was flagging someone down with eagerness. Hands waving wildly, diamonds and sapphires sparkling in the light, she stood, jarring the table in her enthusiasm.

"Todd!" She gushed warmly. "Ladies, you remember my son Todd?" She said standing to embrace the handsome blonde man among a chorus of fond accolades from the group of ladies. "Nancy, this is my son Todd, he's a Doctor in Denver…Todd this is Nancy, she's…uh…" A look of confusion crossed Bella's attractive face, as she tried to place a label on the young lady.

"Nancy." Todd smiled and extended his hand.

"Hi." Nancy shook it and without expounding on what title she currently did or didn't have, she simply asked. "Will you excuse me?"

The women parted, allowing her to pass and head for the bathroom, all of them smiling satisfactorily as the first portion of Jean's plan began to unfold like gangbusters.

Nancy's palm made contact with the heavy wooden door of the ladies room and she quickly stepped inside, closing the door behind her and wincing as it creaked on ancient hinges. "Oh, please God…whatever I did to be subjected to this, I repent for it." She whined as she splashed cool water on her face. She stared in the mirror, knowing that Dave was surely having a better time at Audrey's party than she was here…and she could have been there with him too if she hadn't been so selfish and stubborn.

Weaving between the tables, reluctantly headed back toward the gaggle of boisterous females, Nancy steeled herself for the prospect of being saddled with them for the entire day. She was pulled back down into the seat with delicate 'thump' by Patricia who informed her that she'd already taken the liberty of sweetening Nancy's tea with honey, and ordered her a whole-wheat bagel. Nancy politely thanked the woman, but secretly she wished she could be behind the business end of a ham and cheese omelet with all the accompaniments, rather than being forced to endure the lady-like consumption of a mere bagel.

Todd smiled as he regarded the clamor and then interjected a question.

"Nancy…so what is it you do?" He was trying to be polite, she was sure, and he was undeniably handsome, but there was nothing there that caught Nancy's interest.

She was preparing to respond, but as soon as she opened her mouth, Jean practically barked out the answer for her. "She's a wrestler...or _was_ until this past week."

Nancy whipped her head around to object. "Well no, I--"

"Interesting." Todd nodded. "Do you wrestle men or, uh…women?" He fiddled with the fork in front of him.

"She's supposed to wrestle women, but I think things got terribly mixed up."

Dora began. "That's what Jean said anyhow, and she ended up being injured badly…she was attacked by a male wrestler…you know her boyfriend just practically left her for dead."

Nancy frowned. "Well Dora, that's not what happened--" She was once again bulldozed.

"Oh sure, honey…I know it's hard for you…especially since he did come to your aid so many times before, but let's just put the hard times behind us, shall we?" Dora said noting the sudden change in Nancy's expression.

"So you wrestle…do you do anything else, you know for fun?" His questions, though aimed at the innocent prospect of getting to know her better, did little more than give the women around her an excuse to insert their own assumptions.

"I'm not a wrestler, I'm a wardrobe consultant for a wrestling federation." Nancy spouted out before she could be outdone.

"So you must be on the road a lot?" Todd queried.

"Oh Todd, she's constantly on the road, never settles down…the only time I get to spend any time with her is when she has a few days break or an injury like the one she sustained trying to wrestle that _'Double D'_ fellow." Jean said sipping her tea.

"_Triple H_." She corrected ruefully. Nancy sat back in the chair incensed and confused, any word that she could have gotten in edgewise was twisted and mutilated to fit the women's tainted view of her situation.

"Where do you live when you aren't here with Jean." His eyes held an amused sparkle and he sipped his water.

"Well, I--" Nancy began and damned if it didn't happen once again, Jean butting right in and taking the helm of the conversation.

"She's sort of homeless, Todd…well up until a couple of days ago she had a wonderful living arrangement with a very handsome man, Max tells me…but she left him." The last part of the statement rolled out on a whisper interlaced with a distinct air of pity.

"Oh…I see you're in a relationship." Todd mused suddenly realizing that she might be in a delicate state.

"Well, I didn't exactly leave him the way _she's_ trying to imply…and I really don't feel like talking abou--" Nancy inserted, hackles raised, trying desperately to mask the fury with a smile that didn't quite reach her lips.

"It must have been awful for you, sweety…is that what really happened to your shoulder?" Eva asked a sad pout on her lips.

"No!" Nancy answered in exasperation. "And it wasn't awful…I just…"

"Well of course it had to be terrible honey or else why would you have left him?" Bella asked with a dismissive laugh and twirled her water glass by the stem. "I mean if he wasn't mean to you, if he was so wonderful then you'd have been a fool to leave."

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A stream of giggling five and six year olds had already swung hopelessly at the piñata trying to be the one to break it open, but to no avail and now Audrey the birthday girl who'd already failed in her attempt to smash the 'Dora The Explorer' piñata, leaned against her father and pouted as they both watched Vanessa's teen friends have their turn.

"How come they get to do it?" Audrey asked with a huff. "We should get two tries cuz we're smaller than they are."

"Well, that's how the game goes, Audrey." Dave reminded his frustrated daughter. "Kids first, then teenagers, then Mom and then me." He smirked, secretly wishing that no one would break it so he could have a crack at it in order to vent his aggravation.

Audrey leaned against him, her fingers twined in his belt loop, until Vanessa went up to bat. "I hope she misses."

"Me too." Dave said grinning, but both were disappointed when the blindfolded laughing teenager nailed the piñata full-on with one swing, splitting it at the seams, giving way to a stream of prizes and toy store gift cards in all denominations. Angie never was big on candy for kids and had opted for things that that would last beyond the time it took for their parents to get them home.

Kids began converging on the pile but Angie held them at bay and put everything in a basket so that it could be dispersed equally. Vanessa the champion conceded properly with a smile and agreed that all of the prizes should go to the younger kids, much to the delight of her baby sister who had forsaken their father in lieu of the prizes.

Cake had been served, and the fiercely hated '_Nemo'_ had been switched with a _Dora_ cake, after Angie had revealed to Audrey that '_Nemo'_ had merely been a joke, and presents had already been opened and set aside…now the group of heinously loud children were running in all directions through his ex-wife's house save for one somber boy who was tugging fiercely on the leg of Dave's khaki shorts.

He looked down to regard the red haired boy with thick glasses, attired in a suit coat over corduroy pants. He reminded him a little bit of a miniature lawyer with his serious gaze and professional demeanor, in contrast with the chocolate smear that his tugging hand had left on Dave's shorts.

"Can I help you?" Dave asked the boy, matching his serious gaze.

Both were locked in a lethal stare with one another…two similar humans, yet on opposite ends of the physical scope…it was all Dave could do not to laugh as he took note of the boy's intense adult manner. He bent down so that he could be near the boy's eye level and before he knew it a fierce and speedy verbal interaction began.

"You don't scare me" The boy informed bravely as his face never changed from the sober and intense observation, all the while Dave emulated the boy's behavior, both speaking in monotone.

"You don't scare me either." Dave informed him.

"You a cop?"

"Nope."

"Football player?"

"Nope."

"Basketball Player?"

"I wouldn't lower myself to that indignity."

"Bodybuilder?"

"Not anymore."

"You a wrestler?"

"I'm the best there is, kid."

"You famous?"

"Yes, I am." Dave's face was as serious and emotionless as was the boy's, but on the inside he was laughing his ass off.

"Audrey said you were, but I didn't believe her." He informed Dave, his voice still without the inflection common in most younger children. "I had to find out for myself."

"Smart kid." Dave remarked, still never cracking a smile, he pulled the starter cap off of his own head and extracted a sharpie from his ex-wife's phone table, swiping his autograph across the brim, he clapped it gently onto the boy's red head, watching as it sank down over the boy's brow. "Take care of that hat, kid. It was my favorite."

The boy's face split into a grin of approval, the only visible sign other than his size that would indicate that he was indeed a child. And in his most professional emotionless voice he announced "Thanks mister…I'm gonna go brag about this now."

Dave laughed and shook his head as the boy disappeared into the melee that was his daughter's party, and then realizing that he had been left by himself, he leaned against the back of the couch and watched the ruckus, while his mind traveled elsewhere.

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The women left little time for Nancy's verbal defense, Jean jumping right in for the kill.

"That's precisely why you and Todd should go see Aspen and have a fantastic time without us."

The entire group stood in unison, save for Nancy who was less than enthusiastic about being thrust into a date with someone she didn't even know.

"Oh I completely agree." Bella remarked with glee. "There's no one better to help you forget your relationship woes than Todd…he knows Aspen well, since we've been vacationing there since his childhood."

Nancy was rapidly ushered to her feet and into the forcible company of the young doctor before she could give a proper refusal. And Todd being the apparent gentleman pointed the way to the front door of the café.

Once out of earshot, the group of prattling women settled down, but not before laughing and critiquing one another's performances.

"Good Lord, she's fuming, isn't she?" Patricia remarked as they watched the two walk away. "Did you see her face, when Eva goaded her about her shoulder?"

"Yes I did." Jean laughed as she sipped her tea, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. "That's why I'm apt to think it worked."

"Why is it every time we do this that I have to pretend to be the loud one?" Bella narrowed her eyes, biting into her toast.

"Because you're a much better actress than the rest of us are…" Patricia informed. "Doctor? Where in the world did you come up with that? He's an interior designer for Pete's sake! You change his occupation every time!"

The group fell into a round of raucous tittering that left Jean wiping the corners of her eyes. "I swear one day we're going to have to pay for our sins, ladies."

"Well, next Tuesday Eva's daughter Cindy is in town and she has no clue we know that she's planning on quitting college…so we'll be doing this all over again." Patricia announced, referring to the veritable club that the ladies had formed when their children were small. The women had been in cahoots and had been pulling these types of stunts for the benefit of their children for years, their mission being to exact enough torture on their victim until they realized that it wasn't half bad the way they'd had it as compared to how they were about to get it. They'd never failed to reform one of their intended, each one of the group's escapades having been a complete success.

"This was by far one of the easiest one's we've done…thanks to some crafty information gathering on my part." Jean smiled brightly, prepared to take a bow. "And a call from Max."

"I agree, but damn, Patty did you have to wear that cursed perfume from the 1800's? You do that every single time. Throw it out!...it's stale by now!" Eva laughed.

"We can just ride home with the windows open, Lord knows I thought we were gonna die on the way here, who in the hell's idea was it to turn up the heat so damned high? My bra is soaked!" Bella told the others, flapping the lapels of her blouse in order the funnel air into her cleavage.

"My God…" Jean laughed, "If you'd gotten that breast reduction like I advised your bra wouldn't soaked, it had nothing to do with the heater!"

The group of women finished their breakfast amongst the satisfied tinkle of their laughter.

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Outside of the café, Nancy halted abruptly and put her balled up sweater against her face, prepared to muffle her own frustrated scream. She stomped one foot twice, unaware of the amused glimmer in Todd's eye as he smiled in pity for the young woman who had just unwittingly been the victim of a motherly ambush.

"What just happened in there?" Nancy asked, pulling the sweater down, her lips a thin line and her eyes filling with angry tears. "I mean I know I don't know you and you probably don't even know what just happened, but I sure as hell would like to know!"

Todd held open the door of the Cadillac STS for her and she slipped reluctantly into the passenger seat. "I think that you were waylaid." He announced when he got behind the wheel. "By a bunch of well meaning women."

"I should _be_ so lucky!" She observed wryly as she slumped in the seat.

"Actually you _should_ consider yourself lucky…" He mused, twisting the key in the ignition. "They only do that to people they love."

"What? Expose me to a breakfast from hell and a one-sided third degree?" Nancy asked as he pulled away from the café and out onto the cobblestone street.

"You got off easy." He announced, laughing softly. "You should have seen what they did to me."

"I dare not ask." Nancy snapped, fiddling with the clasp of her handbag.

"Well imagine being dragged on a camping trip with five women, whose best concept of roughing it is when the Ritz Carlton doesn't provide a bathrobe." He elaborated with a laugh and a soft shake of his head.

"You mean they make a habit of this sort of thing?" She asked incredulously.

"Anytime they want you to see something from a different perspective, they do…and it's never failed." He announced, quirking an eyebrow. "Did you learn anything today?" He pulled in front of a textile store at the end of the row and shut the car off.

"Yep, not to take Jean up on her offer for breakfast _ever_ again." Nancy smiled, despite her frustration.

"I have to be honest with you." Todd announced. "I'm not a doctor."

"I'm not a wrestler." She admitted with a strained laugh.

"I guessed as much and I'm betting you'd rather ride back for the ranch than go hang out with me." He grinned. "You wanna call him don't you?"

Todd's comment caught her off guard and she turned to face him. "I didn't bring my phone." She knew to whom he was referring, and yes, more than ever—she wanted to call him.

He handed her his phone and she thanked him, flipping up the receiver and dialing Dave's number by memory. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest in anticipation of hearing his low and silken voice as a thousand explanations for why she had been so stupid rattled around her cluttered mind. Unanswered, the ringing turned to the sound of his voice in the form of his voicemail box and after feeling her heart plummet, she flipped the phone shut without leaving a message, allowing Todd to give her a ride back to the ranch.

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The last child had been ushered out the door along with Vanessa's friends who had been whispering, smiling and staring at Dave for the past half hour. Vanessa had gone to a slumber party with the girls, leaving only after several verbal warnings for them to stop staring at her dad. Finally it was just him and Audrey, who shot out the back door like a lightening bolt to play with her new toys, telling her Daddy she would see him later.

"Do you wanna tell me why you're in a bad mood?" Angie asked as she pulled a trash bag out from beneath the sink.

"I'm not in a bad mood." He defended a little more stiffly than usual, leaning back casually against the dining table's edge.

"Oh." She nodded knowingly. "Then why are you sulking?"

"I'm _not_ sulking." He informed her frowning.

"Pouting?" She prodded.

"Angie." He warned eyes wide, one hand in the air as if to make her stop. "I'm not pouting!" He insisted evermore irritated when he saw her grin.

"I hear she's nice." Angie smiled through a hooded expression as she popped the trash bag open. "I love the swimsuit she made for Vanessa, and if she's up for it she may have a stack of orders from other mothers before summer kicks in."

"I don't know if she'll be around come summertime, but I'll pass along your request." His sarcasm wasn't missed and he was ready to roar his fury, when Angie tilted back her head and gave way to a peal of bemused laughter.

"Here stop pouting and make yourself useful." She smiled, shoved the bag into his hands instructing him to hold it open as she dumped cups and plates into it. "So, she was here and now she's not, huh?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Dave grumbled, furrowing a brow—then finally. "And yes, she's gone." He tried in vain to hold in his frustration, but he knew that Angie would be truthful and brutal even, in her advice and that was something he could dearly use right about now. He shared his dilemma with Angie, giving some of Nancy's background, relieved that Angie didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that he was seeing someone.

"Okay…so you told her yesterday about the roster switch, right?" Angie affirmed. "And you told her that you wanted her to come with you? Tell me how it was presented to her…exactly." Angie had some idea of what might have happened and it was important that he see his actions in a different light.

"I told her I thought she should quit her job on Raw and come with me." He said it hesitantly, wondering suddenly why it suddenly sounded so harsh in his own mouth.

"Oh, wow." Angie grimaced, laughed a little and continued to toss plates in the trash.

"Not that one." Dave said eyeballing Audrey's leftover cake slice and putting it in his mouth, whole as the plate passed. "I told her that I didn't want to have to worry about her." He announced through a mouthful of cake.

"Let me get this straight, then…" Angie began, attempting a recap. "You didn't ask her if she wanted to quit her job…you _told_ her she should because _you_ thought it was a good idea?"

"Sort of."

"And you said that she should stay here until her shoulder's better and then hop onto trains, planes and automobiles with you."

"Well I didn't exactly say that."

"You may as well have said it." Angie lifted one brow, slinging the stiff observation right into his chest.

"Well, it's pretty cut and dried, how else should I have said it?" He was prepared to be offended but the impatient vibration of the phone on his hip caught his attention. Tilting the phone so that he could see the screen revealed an unfamiliar number and he decided against answering it so that he could finish his conversation.

"Well for starters, you shouldn't have had a conversation of that magnitude minutes before you left town…that was a killer in our relationship, remember?" Angie reminded him.

"Well evidently it was a killer in this one too, because she left without even telling me." Dave was half tempted to pout.

"It's your own fault." Angie announced, rounding the dining table and wadding up the stained paper tablecloth as she went.

"How's it _my_ fault?" He blasted, much louder than he had intended. "I did everything I thought was right and it's still not good enough for her."

Angie was about to respond when her youngest daughter caught her eye from the dining room window. "Audrey, come down off of the doghouse!" She opened the casement window and hollered to Audrey who waved obligingly and hopped down. Shutting the window, she turned to her ex-husband and lifted her arms out to the sides as she spoke. "Dave, by your own admission, she spent the better part of her young life being dragged from place to place under the whim of someone else without any foresight of the possibility that she might have a chance to slow down and sink her roots, right?"

"She's doing that now, Angie…she's been traveling with RAW for awhile…who in the hell has roots in wrestling…there's no roots!" He insisted, defending his position.

"She may have no roots, but she has a paycheck." Angie informed. "She has some independence, control…"

"I never bossed her around…I never told her she couldn't work." He maintained, pointing his finger for emphasis. "I told her there were tons of firms in Seattle if she wanted to get a job."

"Oh, ho! That makes everything all right then." Angie tossed her hand up in the air. "Did it ever occur to you that she might be scared?"

"The whole damned thing's scary Angie!" He smashed a paper cup trying to stack it inside of another.

"Maybe she thinks that you'll get tired of her and she'll be left to try to piece her career back together along with her life." She watched her ill-tempered ex husband brood over his misfortune.

"I wouldn't do that." He said softly.

"Did you tell her that?" She asked, parting the curtain so she could keep an eye on Audrey.

"I didn't get a chance, she took off, remember?" He snapped, glaring at her.

"Then you _need_ to tell her." Angie pointed her finger at him and fixing him with a serious stare. "And none of that caveman action where you go club her over the head and drag her back by the ankle either, because she'll just resent you for asserting yourself."

"I wasn't planning on that." He insisted, glowering at her…and he _had_ been thinking that very thing, more than once today, but he'd never tell _her_ that. "And she's not answering her phone anyway so I'm out of luck."

"Well it's not going to be easy…because you can't exactly call her and ask her the same question now, because she'll never go for it."

"Huh?" He was suddenly confused.

"I'm a woman, trust me I know a thing or two." Angie said, passing him another half eaten slice of cake, which he declined. "If you ask her now, then she's just gonna think that you're only padding the proposition so she'll go along with it…you have to hit it from a whole different angle now…because of your stubbornness." She added.

His eyes flashed darkly, "No wonder you guys are so damned hard to figure out…you make _no_ sense!" He let go of the plastic trash bag, stalked the length of the dining room and whipped the back door open to holler a command at his youngest daughter, who at present was standing on top of the picnic table swinging a plastic bat with all of her might at a stuffed animal suspended by a garden hose from the pergola, overhead.

"How in the hell did she get that up there?" He asked to no one in particular as he observed her wildly whipping bat swings.

"How does she ever figure out how to do half of the stuff she does?" Angie added, peeking around him. "What in the world does she have hanging from her ears?"

"I'm not sure." Dave answered noncommittally, following his summation with an earsplitting whistle, to which Audrey did not respond. "Those look like flip-flops…Angie, tell me that's not what I think it is." He shook his head.

"You know what? Those _are_ her flip-flops." Angie laughed. "I wonder how she got those to stay on her ears?" She contemplated as she watched her daughter, who had suspended the thong strap of her sandals over the tops of her ears for whatever reason, her parents had no clue. But they were holding nicely despite her furious swinging, which was now causing the table beneath her to shake. "I think she was dipped a little too long in your gene pool." Angie laughed, as Dave stepped out onto the porch and hollered for her to come down again.

Audrey didn't even turn in response to his shout and so he stomped off of the porch headed straight for the picnic area. She'd never just been blatantly disobedient before and he was in no mood to deal with it. All the while crossing the lawn he hollered out to her to stop and get down and the entire time she ignored his commands. Within a few feet of her, with her back turned, he stopped to address her, she swirled wildly with the plastic bat, missing the mock piñata and striking her father directly on the hairline, where his recent chair shot had left him needing stitches.

The blow took him completely by surprise and he let out a frustrated growl and a curse, putting both hands up to his head, touching a tiny trickle of blood.

Audrey who hadn't intended to make contact with anything other than the stuffed animal immediately panicked, tugging the flip-flops off of her ears, followed by her headphones…revealing to her headache ridden father why it was she hadn't answered him in the first place. "Daddy…" She whined noticing the blood, and suddenly remorseful tears sprang to her eyes. "I'm sorry!" She scrambled down off of the picnic table and up into her father's lap, where he sat on the edge of the bench. "I didn't mean to!"

"I know." He said with a measure of frustration holding one hand to his head and hugging her with the other.

"Audrey, inside." Angie said softly as she crossed the lawn.

"I didn't mean to." Audrey cried, her face falling.

"I know you didn't mean to." Angie reassured her. "But I also know you're not supposed to be climbing on lawn furniture either. Go in and put your toys up so we can go for dinner after Daddy leaves."

"Daddy, I'm sorry." Audrey blubbered. "I just wanted to practice for the piñata next year." Her tears fell in sheets.

"It's okay, Audrey." He told his tearful daughter and stifled a wince when the wind send a fine spray of sand into his face and the recent wound. "I'm fine…and with a hit like that you're sure to break it next year." This comment evoked a bright smile despite the tears and she scrambled off of her father's lap picking up her headphones and heading into the house.

"You'll live." Angie told him after a short appraisal of the cut which was still intact under the unbroken stitches. Then sitting down beside him on the bench, she spoke. "Dave you need to create an opportunity for choice in this relationship if you ever intend for it to work, and you can't hold anything back if this is what you really want…throw yourself into it headlong or it's doomed to fail already."

Dave touched his fingers to the gash which had quickly clotted and let out a puff of air. "I'm a master of failed endeavors…that's for sure." He said feeling sorrow for himself.

"You think because we didn't work out that it won't work out with her?" Angie laughed.

"How can I make it work when I don't even know how I ruined the first relationship?" He asked, brushing a leaf off of the bench.

"You don't have to base your success with her off of _our_ failure, you just have to make sure you don't repeat it." Angie remarked. "Seems to me, like the whole thing with the two of you stems from a communication setback…you have trouble talking and she has a hearing problem."

Dave laughed…that was something he couldn't deny. "I think you're right."

Angie squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Dave, if you love her, and I believe you do, then you need to do _whatever_ is necessary to show her that you're willing to make it work…and if that means making a commitment, then swallow your pride and do it."

"She's not gonna come back to me if I just call her, Angie…you said so yourself. She won't even answer my calls." He admitted, suddenly wondering if he could rope Vanessa into calling her from a different phone, just so she would pick up.

"Then go to _her_." Angie said. "And don't do something tricky like trying to get the girls to call her or else you'll look like a manipulator."

"I know _that!_" He said irritably and though he had been thinking along those very lines, he would never admit it to Angie and so he dashed the thought altogether.

"Give her an opportunity to make a choice and then you'll know if she loves you the way you love her." Angie smiled, satisfied with her advice.

"How do _you_ know I love her?" He asked, wondering if his ex-wife was merely intuitive or if he reeked of it.

"I watched that match, Dave…and the camera panned on you for a split second after she got your belt…cameras don't lie…it's in your eyes." She admitted softly. "And besides that, I was married to you for almost 15 years…I know you better than you think I do."

He laughed again and stood up stretching. "Thanks…" He told her giving her a hug. "I'm glad we can be friends, like this."

"Me too." Angie said brightly, "Especially since I don't have Triple A…I may need you to come to my rescue and change a tire one day…now go in there and assure your daughter that she didn't give you brain damage and then go get your girl."

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Nancy hugged the sweater around her shoulders as she stepped over a pile of hay and ventured into the expansive stables toward the gelding in the middle row of stalls.

"Hey Viktor…" She spoke to the gelding as she ran her fingers down his head, between his ears and down to his nose. The horse's ears flicked its recognition and he breathed sharply. "I tried to call him and he wasn't there." She admitted to the horse. "I think I messed up the _whole_ thing." The horse shifted his feet and turned his head, eyeballing Nancy as if he were listening.

"Maybe you could fix it." The Texas bred voice from behind her startled her and she jumped.

"God, Don…you scared the crap out of me." Nancy said placing her hand on her chest.

The handsome gray-haired man laughed, a piece of straw hanging from his mouth as he stood in front of another stall, foot propped on the stringer.

"You know, when I first married Jean, she used to drive me nuts…did I ever tell you that?" He asked, reaching over the stall to pat the rump of the grey mare.

"No sir."

"By _God_, that woman had me so frustrated the first year of our marriage, because we never could see eye to eye with what we were trying to tell each other, that I had my doubts if it would even work." He chuckled softly at the memory. "Look around you…this stable was built out of sheer frustration. I came out and worked on it every time she made me mad. Damn strong structure if I do say so myself…I spent enough time out here that I could have built two of 'em."

Nancy watched the man twirl the straw between two fingers as he spoke. "I never could understand why she wouldn't just come out and say somethin' when she wanted it." He looked sidelong toward Nancy, "Men are simpler…I would have gotten the point easier if she'd just said _'please take out the trash'_, but _no_, she had to go and flower up the request by saying somethin' like, _'I'm buried under trash in the kitchen'_ or _'I sure hope that trash sprouts legs and walks to the burn pile'_…" He shook his head. "Women and men think, talk and act differently, that's why God made it so we'd get married, even if he did cheat us out of an instruction manual."

He turned to face Nancy, his eyes bright and full of wisdom. "Sometimes men don't say things right." He pulled the straw out of his mouth and tilted his head to the side. "We just spit things out without thinkin' and we don't mean for it to sound like a command, but it just does…we expect that when we say something that you'll get it just like we meant it…even if it did come out wrong…do you see what I mean?"

Nancy nodded, as the gelding nickered softly over her shoulder, its warm breath rushing against her face. "Yeah I do."

"I think you had a good thing goin' with that ol' boy and maybe you just got scared." He assumed, and Nancy nodded as the gelding nickered again.

"I think I ruined it by running away." Nancy admitted as a lump formed in her throat. "I always run…" She whispered, swallowing.

Don nodded his understanding, staring at his worn boot. "Supposin' you just voiced your concerns to that fella, told him why you were scared and apologized for takin' off without tellin' him…if he's worth a plug nickel he'd listen and give you a second chance."

"And what if he doesn't?" Nancy asked, scratching the horse's mane.

"Then you'd be no worse off than you are now." Don told her.

The gelding seemed to agree, whinnying and nudging Nancy's head firmly with his nose. "And besides, if you head out tomorrow, you won't end up being bullied into another breakfast with Jean and her crew." Don informed with a look of pity on his face.

Nancy's shoulders slumped in relief as she laughed. "Oh man! You knew about that?"

"Lord Almighty, you got railroaded into that one and you didn't even see it coming, girl." He grinned showing perfect white teeth. "By God that perfume hung around here thick as thieves in the danged livin' room all mornin'! I thought I would have to fumigate the house, and _Eva_ with her blasted bright pink Hummer! Might as well have been a Sherman Tank run through a Pepto Bismol factory…thing's a hell of an unsightly embarrassment…I cringe every time she pulls up in that darned thing, because I know what their plannin' to do…only darned Mary Kay consultant on the continent that drives something that big…and she didn't even win it with sales, she had it made, so people wouldn't be able to miss it…would you believe that?" Don shook his head.

"Well, no one missed it today, that's for sure." Nancy grinned.

"Let's go inside, and you get packed up…I'll make a pot of coffee and you can make your flight arrangements." He looped an arm over Nancy's shoulder and the two walked back toward the ranch as Don told her all about the ladies with whom she had shared breakfast.

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He sat in the dark, on the bed with his thick back pressed against the headboard, mulling over his ideas. Not so much worried about the words anymore…this last two days difficulty having proved that actions were his only option now. Dave could follow Angie's advice, it wouldn't be hard…he could go to Nancy, he could talk to her…it was just the risk of being rejected that struck fear in his heart. But if he loved her he had to be willing to hang himself out for her even at the risk of her rejection…and if she loved him she would do the same. Dave knew from his own dealings with Vince that Nancy was required back on RAW, resuming her duties in only two days, so going to the ranch for her was out of the question. He knew that if he called Max, that he could find out where the ranch was, but he also knew that he had to approach things from a different angle as Angie had suggested. And he would rather do it on neutral territory.

He fiddled with the pillow behind his head, knowing what he had to do...doing it was the hard part…but he had to, and fast before she decided she could live without him.

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Nancy stuffed the last of her things into her bag and placed it by the door of the bedroom, except for his shirt, which she held in her hands. She pulled it on over her tank top and pajama pants and flopped down on the bed. She hoped that the unanswered phone call this afternoon was not a harbinger of his decision to write her off, likely he was busy with Audrey's party and unwilling to let a call interrupt it…at least that's what she hoped. She snapped the lamp off and pulled the covers over her body, knowing that sleep would not come. Tomorrow would be the day of reckoning for her…she would go to the house show and do what she knew she had to and then pray in earnest for a second chance.


	33. Chapter 32

Uncommon Sense Chapter 32  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions."

-_David Borenstein, January 28, 2000_

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Dave knew that she would be well immersed in her duties at the RAW House Show…And he remembered the arena from past shows clearly enough to know where they would have housed the wardrobe area…knew it all well enough that he could even envision where she standing at this very minute…probably without her shoes. But he was nearly half the length of the United States away from her…and so his over-active imagination and a best-laid plan was _all_ he had. Dave Batista took a deep breath as he contemplated what he was about to do…kicked around the consequences of his forthcoming actions once more, and then he remembered how rewarding the benefits would be…despite the penalty.

He tapped the door, with shaking knuckles and waited until he heard the voice from the other side telling him to enter. He took another deep breath and let it out in a slow stream between his lips. Dave was glad he had left his Championship Belt back at the hotel…if for no other reason than that he was a little selfish and wished to hold onto it for another day at least, should he be required to surrender it right away. He knew that what he was about to do, was something he wouldn't have even dreamed of six months ago, but then what significance would his career hold ten years from now if he were all alone? He had to remind himself of that.

Another verbal prompt from the other side of the door reminded him that he had indeed knocked, and so he slowly twisted the knob, prepared to concede his Championship Belt, and bargain for his return to RAW…or his retirement should they refuse.

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Christy slid the last of her shoes into the travel bag, and took another swift mental inventory of the items needed to ensure her seamless transition to Smackdown. She tossed a tube of lipstick into her purse after swiping a coat across her lower lip, pressing her lips together and letting them come apart with a little smacking noise, followed by a smile. "What, else? What am I missing?" She whispered to herself. Nothing…she wasn't missing anything…not anymore…not now that she had her ticket to Smackdown, and her competition for the affections of a certain World Heavyweight Champion had been demolished.

Another twitch of guilt, as she pulled her sweater on over her lacy bra, and as always she shoved the guilt aside…Nancy and Dave might try to work it out for awhile, but in the end Christy would win out…she always did. Dave would tire of trying to make the relationship work from thousands of miles away…it hadn't worked with his ex-wife, and it wouldn't work with Nancy. Christy would be there to help just like she had been after his divorce…he would finally see the situation the same way she had seen it all along. Triple H had said so, hadn't he? He knew Dave Batista about as well as a person could, didn't he?

A last minute glance around her apartment, told her that she had turned off everything and she tugged the blasted heavy luggage toward the door. Her cab was waiting at the bottom of the steps…her new career was waiting for her just an hour and a half flight away…and her man was waiting for her just a few hundred miles distance at the SmackDown taping…even if he didn't know it yet.

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Nancy peeked gingerly around the door into the Wardrobe area, glad to find that it was empty. This had been her home for some time now…not the room, not the arena…but the job—the position itself. The machines surrounding her, the memory of the familiar hum of a needle piercing fabric as the Singer pieced together another of her creations. The hudreds of different spools of thread that made up a veritable wall of color…the beat-up and battered trunks with their missing leather corners and broken latches, those had been her 'family'...She rolled her suitcase against the wall and laid her handbag on top of it. Her fingers glided over the top of the serger, grazed the table and then as she patted the lid of the Singer Sewing machine…a smile crossed her face…this was the machine that gave her fits, cut her, made her bleed.

"Not anymore…" She whispered to the machine. Nancy held a secret…another one, in her head and in her purse. Tonight would be the last night that the machine would ever get the better of her…tonight would be the last night she would have to deal with Triple H…and tonight would be the last night she would ever work with Max Hadaway.

Because, folded neatly in the inner pouch of her purse was the very eloquent and articulate resignation, which she was prepared to present to Eric Bischoff at the end of the night. Nancy knew that a decision like this could possibly put her in a position to have to rebuild her career from the ground up, but she also knew that the reward of being with the man she loved far outweighed the difficulty that reconstructing her career might entail.

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Stepping inside of Teddy Long's office, Dave Batista was met with a demonstrative smile and a warm greeting. _That_ alone went a long way toward easing his nervousness, and he extended his hand to return the salutation.

"Teddy." He retracted his arm from the handshake and placed both of his hands in his pockets to still their nervous trembling.

"Dave, I'm glad you wanted to have this meeting with me." Teddy's brow arched in concern as he leaned against the edge of his desk. "You sounded urgent on the phone…but before we talk, I want to thank you." He held one finger up, making his gratitude a priority.

"For what?" Dave wondered what he might have done to warrant appreciation from his friend.

"My daughter Alicia was able to get a hold of Angie last month, after you suggested the two speak with one another." He referred to his 25 year old daughter, who had recently been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. "Angie gave her a wealth of information about the Oncologist that _she_ used for _her_ treatment, and I have to tell you that because of that information, we were able to get Alicia in to see that Doctor." Teddy's eyes reddened, but no tears fell…his voice, normally steady, had a catch in it. "They recommended a treatment to Alicia that would not have been available to her if we had kept her with the original physician that we were using."

"That's _really_ good to hear." Dave put his hand on the old man's shoulder. "How's it looking for her?" He knew from his experience with his ex-wife how difficult the situation was, and how important having the right information could be.

"Good, Dave…in fact she's in remission right now, the Doctor thinks that she won't have a recurrence." Teddy smiled. "She's my Baby…I don't know what I would do if I lost her…" He cleared his throat. "So I just wanna convey my thanks to you, personally and could you pass it on to Angie for me?"

"I will…she'll be glad to hear about Alicia's progress." Dave squeezed the man's shoulder.

"And if there's _anything_ I can ever do for you or Angie…you let me know…anything, anytime." He looked Dave directly in the eye, unable to define what price could possibly repay Dave's ex-wife for the invaluable information she had provided. Teddy just knew that he would be glad to do whatever he could whenever he was needed. "Now what was it you wanted to talk to me about, Dave?"

Dave nodded aware again of why he had come, and then the offer from the lips of the SmackDown General Manager, pierced his subconscious thought, running across his conscious mind like a flashing banner and the inner beast for once in Dave's life spouted off something…not crass, not lewd, but…rational? _'Tell him you need a favor.'_ The beast suggested calmly.

The entire thought, the need, the scenario, took shape perfectly in his mind as if God Himself had conceived of it and deposited it directly into his heart at just that very moment. He looked up toward the ceiling, as if to give Almighty his thanks. _'I knew you loved me.'_ He told God silently and then he cleared his throat again and spoke.

"Teddy, did you really mean what you just said…about a favor?" Dave asked biting and then releasing his bottom lip in his nervousness, hoping the old man's offer hadn't just been empty words.

"Absolutely." The old man nodded his head confidently.

"Because I really need a favor…a _big_ one." Dave informed Teddy.

"Name it."

"I mean this is _huge_, Teddy…so if it's too much, I understand." Dave felt it imperative to impress the weight of the matter upon Teddy beforehand. He also felt confident knowing how much the General Manager was liked by his peers and upper management…That type of rapport gave Teddy Long a lot of stroke.

Teddy arched a brow and smiled, "How big a favor are we talkin' about here?"

Dave pulled his hands back out of his pocket and licked his lower lip, the words coming easily. "It's like—pooling all of your G.M. superpowers into one massive enterprise…" Dave gestured with his hands, his eyes filling with hope. "…And conjuring for me, a miracle out of thin air."

Though Teddy appeared confused, having never seen Dave Batista exhibit vulnerability or need, he assumed that whatever it was…it had to be something more than just a night off. "Well, whatever it is, I'll try my best…let's sit down and talk about it."

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She would wait patiently for Max, so that she could tell him the news of her departure before letting anyone else in on the secret. Nancy smiled to herself as she stacked the repairs from the week prior in accordance with their level of priority, thinking about what she would soon do. True, she was a little bit scared at the prospect of jumping into unknown waters, especially since she hadn't called Dave since the fated 'Breakfast From Hell' to let him know about her choice, but she was certain it would work out for the better…at least that's what she hoped.

She unzipped an unknown garment bag and pulled out a less than fresh, torn shirt with a paper reminder, to be sent to the dry cleaners…the garment having had an inbound date of over two weeks, and a very stale odor was most likely the result of Max's forgetfulness. Nancy couldn't help but think the paper reminder should have said _'Burn this when you get the chance!'_

Nancy crinkled her nose up as she turned to place the rancid garment bag at a safe distance from the fresher items in the repair pile and she was suddenly met with the malicious visage of her male nemesis. An abrupt rush of fear caused the blood to course through her veins so loudly that she could hear the rapid pulse in her own ears. Triple H turned casually to lock the door as was his custom, and Nancy began inconspicuously to look left and right for something heavy to use in her defense. Blessed was she, when she discovered that his attempt to lock to door from the inside was foiled by the small God-given gift of a key-only double-sided lock.

The inability to control every aspect of the environment must have irritated him, for she saw his brow crease harshly as he tilted his head to the side and regarded her through a veil of blonde hair. He smiled and then chuckled lightly, confirming from her pallor that she was in fact afraid, and his undaunted, gradual approach told _her_ that he wasn't bothered by the fact the door would not lock. Nancy wanted to scream…and she would have, unfortunately her voice was lodged somewhere deep down, unable to force itself forth. Nothing heavy, nothing worthy of use as a weapon could be found close by, save for the scissors in the jar, which she dared not touch, for fear she might actually use them, and so Nancy continued walking backward, retreating from him until her back connected solidly with the wall.

"Glad to see you made it back to us." Triple H commented, his voice oily, insincere. "How's the shoulder?"

Nancy's eyes narrowed despite the fear that shadowed her. "Peachy…" was her jaded response.

"Peachy…that's cute." He stopped his pursuit only inches away from her. "Funny how everyone followed through with their end of the bargain—except you…and yet somehow _you_ still seem to be the only one unscathed when the dust settles." His hand reached out to graze the skin of her face, when what he really wanted to do was choke her.

"I wouldn't say unscathed." Nancy observed, not bothering to mask her sarcasm. "_You_ seem to have come through the whole thing just fine."

"You defied me every chance you got, you spit in my face and still, by whatever Act of God Almighty you were spared of the indignities I had planned for you…You're the most formidable enemy I've ever faced…maybe I should have chosen _you_ to ally myself with a long time ago." He spoke truthfully, darkly, and yet he still seemed to be contemplating something innocent and simple. But Nancy knew he was livid, knew the extent of his battered pride…could see in his eyes that he remained bent upon getting revenge. "But I was right about one thing at least, wasn't I? Dave saw the crack, the flaw, didn't he? He knows how tarnished you are, doesn't he?"

Nancy felt the sting, still…more so because of the fact she had actually paid heed to his words and been stupid enough to believe them, than that she thought they might be true. "He knows…" She admitted nodding her head. "But he doesn't care." She added, trying to find a measure of comfort.

"How interesting…that he doesn't care about your scars and yet he's now on Smackdown…with _Christy_…and he left you here on RAW…with _me_." He knew she was afraid, and yet he couldn't deny the bravery flashing behind her jade eyes. "I'll bet it hurt when he left you…almost as bad as it hurt when I dropped you for the Pedigree after taking advantage of your bad shoulder…and now you're here, locked in a design contract with my wife and you can't ever leave…you and I are bound to get to know one another much better."

Nancy refused to speak, to give any hint to her secret, or to the fact that she hadn't yet signed the contract binding her to the fashion line, she only stood firm against the wall, reminding herself that he couldn't do much if anything, because that door was unlocked and anyone could walk in at anytime.

"Hmmph." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're in for a hell of a ride now that Dave's not here to rescue you." She hadn't begun to cry yet, which was what he had really wished would happen and it began to rile him. "And you just _thought_ you hated me before." He whispered, leaning in close.

"Thought?" Nancy asked as she smiled and arched a brow. And then after swallowing deeply she appeared every bit as gutsy as she could. "No need to think about it, I'm quite sure I _still_ hate you."

His hand balled into a fist, slammed into the wall next to her face and she flinched, but only for a moment. "We're gonna have a lot of fun around here, you and I, aren't we?" He asked through clenched teeth. "Me at the helm of RAW and you behind the scenes doing my dirty work for me."

"Oh, that's right…" Nancy said her voice trembling. "I forgot. The only way you could be a champion again was to have Dave sent to another brand so you wouldn't have him to contend with…because you knew you could never beat him on a level playing field." Her voice was dangerously low and she knew it was a gamble…speaking to a treacherous man with such disrespect, it was akin to poking a caged tiger. "You'll be back on top, we both know that…but not with _my_ help."

His hand lashed out and grasped her arm roughly, his lips pursing together, eyes flashing with fire, and yet she continued.

"You could win John Cena's belt, fair and square and you'd still be a loser…because any victory you ever achieve will be a cheap counterfeit when compared with Dave." She winced when he shook her, jarring the sore shoulder. "The measurement of _your_ success is only as long as the distance of the leash between your throat and Stephanie's hand!" She whimpered when his fingers bit into the flesh of her shoulder, next to where the few sutures had earlier that day been removed, by Spencer Whiles.

"You _are_ stubborn, aren't you?" His words spewed forth on a hiss as he gripped her arm violently, his heated breath stirring the curls next to her face as he spoke harshly. "But, ya see…that's the thing about old wounds…old injuries—old secrets, Nancy…they never do go away!"

"Neither do old vendettas." The voice from the door startled both of them and both heads turned to behold the current WWE Champion, hat turned backward, jaw set and ready for business. "Aren't you at the wrong end of the arena? " He asked as he considered Triple H, eyes darting from the former Champ's vice-like grip on the seamstress's arm to her green eyes filled with gratitude for his timely arrival. "I'd think that after what happened to your Ferrari two weeks ago, that you'd have a hawk's eye trained on that brand new Mercedes Maybach in space a-29?" He took another step inside of the wardrobe room, rolling his shoulders and neck, as if preparing for a scuffle. "They never did find out who vandalized your Modena, did they?" He watched as Triple H's grip on Nancy's shoulder loosened. "That's too bad…Lemme know when they do, so I can shake his hand."

Triple H turned to Nancy preparing to release her all together, but before he did so he chanced to whisper one last threat in her ear. "You just have angels everywhere don't you? But that's okay, because I _will_ see you around…your contract with my wife ensures that." He released her upper arm and smiled obligatorily, passing John Cena with a look that said _'Next Time'_ and departed through the open doorway.

John waited until the former champion departed before turning to ask Nancy if she was okay. He had received a call from Dave less than ten minutes prior and as a favor to his old friend, he had agreed to make a trip to Wardrobe to check on her. John was relieved that he hadn't put off the deed and was a little inclined to believe that maybe Dave had some sort of clairvoyance…either that or he was just guessing that Paul Levesque would have made one last ditch effort at intimidating Nancy. "You alright?" He asked, patting her arm.

"Yeah…I'm okay." She sighed and rubbed her shoulder where his biting fingers had left a fresh red mark. "I'm _so_ glad you happened to be in the neighborhood."

He smiled, turning his hat forward again. "Well I wasn't just out for a stroll. I actually came down here for a reason."

"You're finally ready for that bathing suit, now huh?" Nancy joked, trying to steady her pounding heart. "Gimme just a second I'll take your measurements."

"No, not this week." He laughed, leaning against the table. "I was really bummed to hear about Dave's transfer to Smackdown." He began, without hesitation. "I woulda thought you might have gone with him. Matter of fact, I'm a little disappointed that we didn't get rid of you too."

Nancy laughed softly. "Thanks a lot…"

"You need to go to him." John's words were so blunt and so unexpected that had she been drinking her coffee, she would have spewed it all over him.

"Do what?"

"You're gonna miss the train, if you don't leave behind all that baggage you're tryin' to carry." He told her and then he reached one finger up and pointed to the side of her head, gently touching it. "All o' those voices up there, tellin' you who he is, what he's gonna do…what you should do…cut 'em all loose, ignore all o' that and just go."

Nancy was shocked that he had known or guessed what her dilemma had been, and that he'd had the audacity to call her on it. But then in the short time she'd known John Cena and from all that she knew about him from her observations, he had never seemed like the type of man to pull punches. He just told you what he had to say and if you didn't like it then you could take it outside. She appreciated his candidness, even if it hadn't been what she was expecting.

"You helped me out with something that meant a lot to me and I appreciate that and so now you get my advice without cost." He grinned. "You're really lucky to have snagged the heart o' that man, because he's without a doubt one o' the best people I know, not just in wrestling, but in his character...don't waste that opportunity."

Nancy nodded, wondering if she should tell him that she had already planned to resign her position tonight, but decided against it when he stood to his full height and excused himself. "Now I have a match to get ready for, so I'm out, but you think about what I said, huh?"

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Christy fairly flew through the airport after her plane landed, her rolling luggage nearly smoking at the wheels as she made her way toward the escalator, barely able to contain her excitement at the prospect of seeing Dave during the taping. Her script had come via fed-ex the day prior and she was slated to stand next to Stacy at a make-up table with Dave walking by to squirt them playfully with a water bottle. It wasn't much, but some interaction was better than none, and at least if he had to be polite to her on camera, then maybe some of that cordiality would trickle over into real life.

She missed the first hotel shuttle, and spouted a curse as it pulled away from the curb in a cloud of exhaust just as she reached the ramp. She lifted one elegant arm to flag down a cab, making a snide remark as a red taxi pulled up just seconds behind the departing shuttle. Her luggage was loaded and she was on her way to the hotel with the prospect of finagling Dave's room number out of a hotel employee…surely not everyone could be as evasive as the clerk from the Ambassador in San Antonio had been. Christy laughed when she thought about how she'd been able to bypass the system to get into Nancy's room, despite the hotel's fallible attempt at rigorous security. Another wave of guilt…she quashed it, knowing that if Nancy and Dave were meant to be together, then Nancy would be with him right now, he wouldn't have sent her back to RAW, which was apparently the case…Stacy had informed her of that, gleaning that assumption through discussions with other wrestlers on Raw, who were still her friends.

Christy was due front and center debuting on Smackdown with Stacy in one hour and despite the traffic, she was impressively tranquil, examining her nails after a lengthy manicure aimed at repairing the wreckage that her nervous nail biting had created the past few days. Perfect…_they_ were perfect…a glance in her Tiffany compact told her _she_ was perfect…_everything_ was perfect or soon would be…she just had to get to Dave and every last piece would finally fall in it's place.

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Max smiled as he stepped into the wardrobe room, hanging awkwardly from the doorframe with one arm while the other held a nicely wrapped bouquet of flowers for his best friend.

"She's back…" He said wryly, holding the bouquet up like a torch. "With nothing but love…"

Nancy wondered what his comment might have meant, but she only thanked him as he pressed the bouquet into her hand and embraced her heartily. She had just picked up her handbag and had been headed to Eric's office, intent on presenting him with the resignation and leaving early. In light of what had just happened, she wasn't altogether sure that she felt safe in the arena anymore. But Max's untimely arrival had put a halt to her plan.

"I'm glad you're here, cause I was just gonna go te--" Nancy began, but was cut off.

"Yeah, I'm glad _you're_ here too, because I have something I wanna tell _you_." Max said, clasping her arm and leading her back.

"Well, actually…"

"_This_ can't wait, and you're _gonna_ listen." Max said firmly. "I'm a little bit miffed that you're _here_, when you should be relaxing somewhere in Seattle." His voice rose in his agitation, but Nancy stayed silent, knowing that she should allow him to give reign to his tirade, despite the fact that it was extremely hard for her to keep her amusement over his anger in check.

"I can't believe that _finally_ you have a chance at a future with someone halfway decent and you go running off into the sunset…in the wrong direction!" He tossed his hands up in exasperation. "I don't guess you have a clue about all of the things he's done for you…but then sometimes selfishness has a way of blinding people."

"Max, I…" she interjected holding in her laughter. If only he knew what she was planning.

"Don't say it…I don't wanna hear it! I'm so mad at you I can't even see straight…as if you ran to my _mother_!" He pointed an accusing finger at her. "And there _she_ went, telling you some sweet little story about 'Tara Cunningham-Something-or-Other' and treating you to breakfast with the _Airheads_, when what she shoulda done was tell you to get your ass back on a plane to Seattle and say you were sorry!"

Nancy held up a hand to get him to stop so she could tell him what her plans were, but he rattled off at the mouth so rapidly that any interruption was made impossible.

"I left you, ya know." He announced in a huff, crossing his beefy arms over his chest, deciding that now was as good a time as any to tell her all he had done to ensure her getting to know Dave Batista in the first place.

"What?" Nancy asked not understanding what he meant.

"Yeah, that's right…The night you rode with Dave all the way to San Antonio?" He watched her blink in surprise. "I left you…I planned the _whole_ thing…I hid Dave's bag, I planted your purse so you'd have to go back in after it, I was watching you after you threw your shoes at the back of the bus…I left you…on purpose."

Nancy's eyes filled with fury at the newfound knowledge that he'd left her without forethought to the danger she might have faced. "You _left_ me?" She confirmed in a tight voice.

Max nodded resolutely. "I almost got my ass beat for it too."

"You left me!" She hollered and lifted the bouquet up rapping him on the head with it.

"I did!" Max yelled back, lifting his arms to ward off any further blows. "And you should be thanking me!"

His attempt to protect himself had little effect.

"_Thank_ you?" She asked increulously, stalking him with the bouquet in hand as he rounded the table, retreating. "I think I'm gonna kill you." She announced coolly as she swiped at him from across the table, catching him fully on the side of the head with the bouquet.

Max stumbled in his attempt to get away, thankful that the flowers he'd chosen didn't have thorns and when he tripped over the sewing machine cord and landed on his belly she was on top of his back in a split second. "What if someone had kidnapped me, or if Dave hadn't come out in time to give me a ride? What then?" She hit him again in the back of the head with the bouquet.

"I wish _he_ had kidnapped you and never brought your ass back!" Max announced, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into the low-pile carpet covering the back of his head with his hands.

Only the shrill ring of Nancy's cell phone saved Max from further injury…Nancy dropped the bouquet with calculated force, in the dead center of his back as she stood up and stepped over him to answer her phone, tempted to plant her heel in his ass as she passed.

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Teddy Long tilted his head slightly to the left as he held the phone in his hand, the earlier look of confusion replaced by a look of amused submission. A sidelong glance showed him a nervous and pacing Smackdown Champion, and though part of him wanted to laugh at the entire situation, another part of him understood it perfectly, because he had been there…in a very similar circumstance with his own lovely wife of 35 years. "This _is_ the right number?" He confirmed and then proceeded to dial after the nod of affirmation from Dave Batista. "Okay, Dave."

He held the phone to his ear, listening to the ring in the receiver as it was answered from the other side by Nancy Adams.

"Miss Adams?" Teddy smiled when she answered, noting the sudden halt in Dave Batista's pacing. Did the poor boy have to be so obvious? "Yes, this is Teddy Long, General Manager of Smackdown…"

"Yes, I'm fine, listen I have a proposition for you." He glanced over his shoulder when he noted that Dave had again resumed his slow pacing.

"I find myself in need of a supervisor for my wardrobe department, having lost mine to maternity leave…" It wasn't a lie, Teddy reasoned, he _had_ lost Janelle to maternity leave, albeit almost five months ago. He was quite sure she was never coming back and so he had been left with her assistant, who was so wet behind the ears that she may as well take to wearing a life jacket. "I acquired two names from the Human Resources department, yours and Max Hadaway." He looked over his shoulder as Dave once again stopped pacing and gave ear to Teddy's end of the conversation. "I'm impressed with your qualifications and as you know, due to some recent acquisitions from RAW…I could use someone in the driver's seat who can set a _pace_ around here for the rest of us." He pointed and grinned at Dave who was walking a trench, fully intending the pun.

"I'm prepared to offer you the job and an immediate transfer."

Dave watched Teddy nod and respond to her unknown dialogue with a few 'uh, huh's and I see's' and the whole thing had him believing that she might be reluctant to accept.

"I can give you twenty-four hours to think about it and then I have to offer the job to someone else." Teddy announced. "Alright darlin' I'll wait for your call" then "uh…huh, thanks." He deposited the phone into the receiver, and eyeballed his friend and most prized RAW acquisition, before speaking. "Does the word 'Obsession' mean anything to you, playa?" He shook his head smiling.

And yes, that word meant _everything_ to him right now…he was exhausting his last resource, still determined to give everything up if she said 'no'. "She's thinking about it?" Dave asked feeling a small spark flare in his tinder of hope since she hadn't flat out refused.

"I have to know somethin'…" Teddy sighed. "If you want her over here so bad, why didn't you just have me push for a transfer without her knowledge? You know just have me bring her over here? She is a WWE employee, not exclusive to RAW I could have done that for you."

Dave shoved his hands in his pockets as he contemplated the question. He knew why, and the thought of doing that _had_ crossed his mind, but he'd wanted her to come because _she_ desired it, not because she had been required to do so. "I want her to have a choice."

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"Yes Sir, Thank you." Nancy flipped the phone shut and flopped down in the nearest chair, slack-jawed, and baffled.

"I wish that man had never taught you to wrestle." Max huffed, as he brushed the crushed leaves, Baby's breath and pollen, off of his back and face and out of his hair. "Was it Dave?"

"No." Nancy said softly, shaking her head. She held the phone against her chest and closed her eyes, smiling and then she let out an excited squeal and spun around in the chair, lifting her eyes to the ceiling she whispered, "I knew you loved me." Thanking God.

"Lemme guess, someone caught that whole 'horticultural assault' on tape just now and they want you to try out for _'Days of Our Lives'_, right?" he asked with feigned enthusiasm. "I _could_ have you thrown in jail for that, you know."

"I'm going to SmackDown." She bit her lip and then repeated it softly once more when she saw his look of confusion. "I was trying to tell you about my plan, when you admitted to leaving me…_that_ was Teddy Long…" She rattled off, pointing to her phone. "He lost his Wardrobe manager…she's having a baby and he wants me to transfer…I was planning to quit my job tonight, but he called and _now_…" Nancy saw a bittersweet smile spread across Max's face and she stopped in mid sentence. "If I go, you would have to take over the Wardrobe Department here…and you wouldn't have me to room with anymore…" She wanted to pout when she saw the look on his face. "I wanna go, Max."

"And you should…because he really does love you." Max cleared his throat and wrapped an arm around Nancy's shoulder. "Did you know that he burned every single shred of those papers while you were in recovery…I helped a little bit." He laughed at the memory "_Huge_ wrestler, hunkered down by the loading dock, burning papers in the dark."

"I-I thought he still had them." Nancy admitted, having thought that he might have locked them up somewhere for her, but glad just the same to hear he had destroyed them.

"Nope." Max told her. "He didn't want anyone to be able to come back and use them against you, so we burned them to ashes…that's what he thinks about your past, Nancy…ashes." Max hugged her tight. "Nobody's ever gonna love you like that…not even me…so you go get him…you call Teddy back and you take that job."

"What about you?" Nancy asked Max. "Maybe you could go with me."

"Then who's left to run the ship here?" Max asked. "Besides I can finally get rid of you once and for all…I may _want_ you here…but I don't _need_ you." His last statement came out riddled with emotion, leaving him turning away to find a Kleenex.

Nancy wiped her eyes and kissed Max hard on the cheek. "I love you and I'm sorry I beat you up just now." She whispered, because saying it out loud would make her voice crack.

"Call Teddy." Max encouraged, blowing his nose in a Kleenex.

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"Well, that's good news, then." Teddy smiled, turning to give Dave the thumbs up sign. Nancy's return call had come before he'd even had a chance to send the nervous Champ on his way. "I'll expect you at the house show in Minnesota, tomorrow night, you can get Missy Wyatt from corporate to secure your flight arrangements and I'll pick you up from the airport personally." He winked at Dave, who only smiled and turned away to face the door.

"Uh…huh? You're welcome darlin'" Teddy hung up the phone, and filled the room with his knowing laughter. "Well Dave, I conjured a miracle out of thin air for you."

"Thank you Teddy." He shook his hand.

"Don't think I did all this for _you_." Teddy joked. "This helps us _both_…I just now secured the finest acquisition in the known sports world and my wardrobe will reflect that shortly."

The two finished their short discussion and then Dave excused himself, preparing to go back to the hotel and retrieve his belt so that he could film his entrance into the arena tonight. He was elated about the news that Nancy was coming to SmackDown, but dismayed that in a half hour, he would have to deal with Christy. He made his way through a back hall and like a black cloud conceived from pure thought, there she was…standing with her script in hand and a smile on her face.

"Dave?" She asked hopefully, biting her lower lip the script pressed against her chest. "Can I talk to you about the script?"

"I'm busy, Christy." He would have swept past her, but she blocked the hallway by standing directly in the middle of it.

"This is our first interaction on SmackDown…" She pouted. "I want it to be as good as the one we had on RAW." Christy referred to the story line that had played up a meeting between the two…that had eventually led to the real life sexual encounter that Christy was still holding onto.

"All I have to do is squirt you and Stacy with a water bottle and walk away after you say something…" He appeared irritated. "It's hardly a theatrical stretch…You'll be fine without a rehearsal."

Christy gripped his arm. "I just want our chemistry to be right, Dave…if you're still mad at me the camera can't mask that."

"We don't have chemistry, Christy." He informed her. "Please excuse, me." He brushed past her, despite the fact that the action caused her body to pivot to the side and out of the way.

After returning to the arena with his belt, he entered the locker room, and stumbled upon Eddie Guerrero and Booker T, intently watching a video on a small monitor. Glancing around the monitor he caught a glimpse of an oddly familiar portly man standing on top of a yellow sports car, a pipe in hand. Eddie's head snapped up and he quickly pressed the eject button, putting an abrupt halt to the viewing.

"What are you watching?" Dave asked apathetically.

"Oh, nothing Holmes…" Eddie cleared his throat as he stuffed the video tape deep into his bag and nodded to Booker T, whispering, "Later, Bro"

Dave dressed for the filming of his entrance as he talked animatedly with Eddie, in a much better mood than he had been mere moments ago.

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Stephanie McMahon-Levesque whistled cheerfully as she strolled through the hallway of the arena. She had only moments ago arrived with her father and had been greeted by a producer with a cell phone, telling her that the call was from Teddy Long. He had requested a transfer approval for Nancy Adams, which normally she might have denied for the sole purpose of pissing off the person requesting it. Stephanie might be a lot of things, but a hindrance in the matter of someone's future, she was not. The transfer might have put a kink in her plans to start a new line of fashion, being as the person in question was the very designer she was planning to commission, but Stephanie was a master of adaptation and knew that the two of them could easily make this endeavor work. Making a long distance personal relationship work, however, would have been nearly impossible and since Stephanie knew without a doubt that Nancy and Dave cared for one another…she was reluctant to deny the transfer.

In her hand she held the envelope with the signed transfer slip that she had only just moments ago requested faxed over from her assistant, along with the copy of the contract for the new fashion line that made Nancy the recipient of a nice little monetary advance in the form of a check, which also was tucked obediently inside.

"Hello?" She tapped the doorframe, and grinned when Max and Nancy jumped and released one another from their embrace. "Hi Max, Can I get you to take a break for a minute?"

"Sure, Stephani." Max said brightly, with only the slightest hint that he was a bit intimidated by her.

"Why is the side of your face so red?" Stephanie asked Max as he passed. "You have, uh…little pieces of grass or something in the back of your hair." Her face contorted with confusion and then she shook her head and smiled.

"I fell carrying in some flowers." It wasn't a complete lie…sort of.

"Why don't you go ask Vicki to help you get that out." Stephanie offered innocently contradicting the verity that she knew exactly what had gone on between he and the make-up artist.

"_Yeah_…" Max said deprecatingly. "She would just _love_ to get her hands on me again."

"Or her _knee_." Stephanie said smiling.

"Ha…Ha…" Max waggled his finger at her and blew the two ladies a kiss, excusing himself.

"You know…I like him." Stephanie admitted, watching him go.

"He's an easy guy to like." Nancy said softly. "Some girl will be very lucky to nab him."

"_You_ seem to be a lucky girl." Stephanie remarked. "I wanted to give this to you, personally."

Nancy's fingers made contact with the envelope as Stephanie passed it forward and for a split second, she thought it might have been a 'pink slip'. "What is it?"

"It's your transfer…to SmackDown." Stephanie told her. "And the contract for the line of clothing that I still want you to design…along with the advance, which I'm sure you'll find more than sufficient."

"But I won't be here…it'll make it hard to confer." Nancy admitted.

"No, it won't." Stephanie encouraged. "We can confer over the phone and via e-mail, you can fed-ex me the proto-types using the company's shipping account…besides it's a lot easier to have a successful long distance 'business relationship' than it is to have 'personal' one."

The revelation hit its intended mark and Nancy smiled. "Thank you, Stephanie." The two women stood and then Stephanie suggested that Nancy might want to say her goodbyes and prepare to head out.

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Paul Levesque watched as Nancy passed from the Women's locker room to the catered food area, gifting Sean Michael's with a hug and some unknown words, and then much of the same for Victoria and then John Cena. He stifled a laugh…because he knew she was afraid and had most likely come up with some excuse to leave for the evening. It was just like her…running every time she got scared.

"What's up?" His wife nudged his shoulder as she spoke cheerfully, a soft smile on her face.

"You look happy." He remarked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder for effect.

And she was…happy…even if it wasn't in her own marriage. "It's not everyday you get to be a Good Samaritan." Her reply was laced with an undercurrent of mystery and she sighed as her eyes beheld the friendly seamstress saying her goodbyes to the few friends she'd had from the beginning of her tenure at RAW and to a few more that she seemed to have gained as a result of her match with Triple H.

"She looks happy too." He said curiously as he watched her finish embracing Chris Jericho/Irvine who was apologizing profusely, laughing, offering free Fozzy Merchandise…anything to elicit her forgiveness.

"It's okay…just take care of Max for me." He heard Nancy say to Chris and then she excused herself from him and turned her glittering green eyes on Paul and his wife. She turned to face them and then began walking toward the duo, her eyes filled with a hidden amusement. Nancy stopped in front of Stephanie and Paul and said.

"Thanks again Stephanie." She gave the Billion Dollar Princess a hug, cast a narrow eyed glare to Triple H behind his wife's back and then waved goodbye to the pair, a slight spring in her step as she walked away.

"What in the world has _her_ so cheerful?" Paul asked his wife, curious to know why the seamstress had thanked Stephanie. What had she done?

Stephanie turned and planted her handsome husband to the wall with a knowing and icy stare, having been fully aware of his recent spiteful behavior and then through a crooked smirk, she announced. "_She's_ transferring to Smackdown."

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After loading the back end of the rental car with his luggage, he shook hands with Rey Mysterio and climbed in, preparing to go to an unknown hotel so as to avoid Christy, who had been surreptitiously inquiring about his whereabouts and his plans all evening. He just had to hold off for one more night…tomorrow Nancy would be at the house show and he was sure that if he could just get some private time with her that they could turn the whole thing back around and get their relationship headed once again in the right direction.

The street lights glared off of the window as the wipers beat a path across the windshield in an intermittent pattern. It reminded him of the night they had spent in Albuquerque and he felt a sudden twitch in his stomach when he thought about her. He wondered if she was thinking about him right now, the same way he was unable to entertain the notion of anything else but the two of them locked in a torrid embrace. He knew that any miscommunication between them could be resolved and he was looking forward to the opportunity to prove that theory.

A call from John Cena earlier had assured him that she was okay, despite another attempt at bullying by Paul Levesque, which Dave had known would occur…he had recognized that very thing the morning she had been in his lap at the dining table…that had been the biggest reason for his insistence that she _not_ go back to RAW. But it was all water under the bridge now, because she was coming back. He checked the clock on the dash…yes, she was coming back in less than twenty-four hours and he be damned if he ever let her leave again…next time he hid her clothes, it would be behind lock and key…he chuckled to himself. No, _this_ time she would stay because he would give the effort with _her_ that he hadn't with Angie…he would heed his ex-wife's advice and not repeat his past error.

He pulled up in front of the hotel with a sigh of relief and out of habit, he glanced around the parking lot, familiarizing himself with his surroundings…and making sure that Christy hadn't somehow been able to follow him. He could get a shower first, since leaving the arena without one in his hurry to get away from the red-haired demon, and then he could get a good night's sleep after answering his daughter's e-mails…maybe…he doubted sleep would supersede his anticipation, especially since he hadn't slept soundly before she came, nor since she'd been gone.

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Max, couldn't concentrate on repairs, knowing that Nancy was headed out early and this might be the last time until a joint pay-per-view that he would see her for a long while. He stood up and ran his hands through his hair, causing it to stand on end…had this been what he'd envisioned the first time he'd seen the two talking after she had kicked her phone across the floor and into Dave's shoe? No…not quite…but then how many times can a person be witness to the beginning of a love like this? It certainly hadn't been the ordinary circumstance…no one had seen it coming…but it had and it was the greatest thing that he'd ever observed…and he'd been a part of it from the very beginning. So what if he'd meddled?…look at the result…a country apart and instead of giving up, the two of them were fighting to get back to one another.

He had watched his very best friend learn things about herself that she might have otherwise stored deep down and never allowed to surface. The clumsy cohort he could always count on to give him a laugh, had turned into the dignified debutante who had snagged the heart of a Champion…How often did that type of thing _ever_ happen in real life? But for her…it _had_.

And for _him_…Dave Batista, the cold, animalistic, undeniably, destructive force, determined never to be under the influence of an emotional tie…he had been brought to his knees by his love for a woman that he might never have even given a second glance had she not been such a klutz, spilling hot coffee on his date right in front of him. People could change though….Max couldn't deny that, he'd seen it all around him in the last few months. Jealousy had turned Christy into a crazed victim of her own obsession. Her words of poison had changed several Divas into conspirators. Chris Irvine had changed into an angry, malleable weapon of war for Christy's use, and then back into a protector and exactor of vengeance. He'd watched Triple H's greed spin a web of lies and conspiracies that would have made the government look chaste, he'd even seen money turn Vicki into a soldier of destruction and a venomous vixen.

But there had been heroes too…people who had come when least expected to help Dave and Nancy…Max had watched John Cena intervene on their behalf over and over, along with Chris Jericho and Eddie Guerrero. His very own mother had exacted her own special brand of heroism, in the form of sheer torment in the company of overacting socialites…everything around them pointed to the idea that those two were meant to be together, and Max just _knew_ that there had to have been some divine intent at work…God's fingerprint was all over it.

He wiped the corner of his eyes and even though he was sad to be losing her…he couldn't think of another person that he would rather be losing her to. Matter of fact, he was more than happy to hand her over…because that meant that he would always get the best bed. Nancy stepped back into the room, her eyes slightly red and he guessed that she had probably been crying too.

"I wish you weren't leaving, but I'm glad you're going to Smackdown and not to TNA or something." He joked as she sat down on the table beside him and ran the fingers of one of her hands through his hair, flattening it out where it had been standing at attention.

"I fly out in the morning so I have all day at the hotel to sit around and wait in anticipation." Nancy told him.

"Call him." Max encouraged. "Tell him you're coming…I'm sure he'll wait with you." Max snorted his joke.

"I could do that." Nancy bit the inside of her cheek…and looked around for her handbag, grasping it and digging inside for her phone. She opened it and dialed his number, pressing the phone to her ear and chewing her lip nervously. The ring resounded several times and then just as it had been the last time she tried to call, his voice, introducing his mailbox filled her ears and instead of leaving a message, she snapped the phone shut.

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He made a sopping-wet, mad dash for the phone, a towel wrapped carelessly around his waist, held in place by his hand as he snatched the phone up, flipped the cover open and answered it breathlessly.

"Hello…" It had been her…he had recognized the number as soon as he flipped the cover open. "Nancy…hello…" He repeated, but was met with the empty dial tone.

"Sunuva bitch." He muttered, as water ran in rivulets down his body onto the floor. He'd not had time to dry off completely and at present he had tracked more water out into the hotel room than had been in the shower. He swiped the towel over the receiver, drying off the water that he'd left there when he'd attempted to answer the phone. And then he chanced to check his voicemail box before calling her back, not certain what her call meant. The box opened at his verbal and keyed commands, but no message had been left, and so he summoned up his courage…he _would_ call her back…he had every right to do just that, because she'd called him first hadn't she?

He dialed her number and held the phone to his ear with one hand and the towel in front of him with the other. "Pick up, come on..." He whispered as the rings continued to resound. Her voicemail soon answered and despite the inclination to hang up in frustration, he spoke. "Nancy…please call me when you get this…I just barely missed your call…um, call me back." Not knowing how to end the sentence, he simply hung up. He knew he hadn't needed to leave his name, she would know who it was…but would she care?

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"Don't you dare do that!" Max howled, pointing his finger at Nancy.

She jumped when he yelled, startled and then scowled at him. "What?"

"Don't you do that to him!" He repeated. "Call and don't even leave him a message! What if he thinks you're mad at him?" Max reached for her phone, which she held out of his reach.

"Stop it!" Nancy ordered. "I only did it because I didn't know what to say to his box."

"You call him back right _now_ and leave a message at the very least!" Max ordered, snatching at the phone greedily. The scuffle caused the phone to slip from Nancy's hand and through Max's fingers into the air and over his head, landing on the floor behind him. It was only when he stepped back in a hurry and accidentally planted his entire weight on the tiny phone, that the both of them heard the audible crackle of plastic and technological components. Max lifted his foot to reveal the devastation, and he, like Nancy stared at the crumpled phone with rounded mouths in perfect silence.

Instead of anger, Nancy burst into laughter…true it might prevent Dave from reaching her if he called back, but it was such a hilarious last minute disaster with her partner in crime as the culprit, that she couldn't help but let out a peal of much needed laughter. "Um, Max…can I borrow your phone so I can call him back and leave a message?" She asked after her laughter died down.

"I would let you, only mine is charging back at the hotel." Max admitted gingerly. "Trust me, when you see him tomorrow night and you tell him what happened to your phone, he's bound to understand…he ought to…after having seen me at the gym."

"Do what?" Nancy asked.

"Oh nothing…I'll tell you all about someday…after I'm sure there's nothing around that you can use as a weapon." Max, shook his head and bent over to pick up the plastic shards that once resembled Nancy's cell phone.


	34. Chapter 33

Uncommon Sense Chapter 33  
By Batistafan  
Rating - NC-17 for violence  
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to  
your site that's fine, just let me know.  
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy  
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

**_Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.  
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature  
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not  
be deemed appropriate for all readers.  
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its  
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any  
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that  
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my  
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of  
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.  
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name  
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim  
to them as they are property of their respective companies of  
license. Thank you kindly for not suing._**

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"Love is patient…True love is always kind,

It does not envy—never brags, It's never proud,

Slow to wrath, It keeps no records of wrongs against friends,

Love Forgives…"

1 Corinthians 13:4-7

As told by Stacie Orrico, _Without Love_

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He skimmed the front page of the newspaper, over the text, past the pictures and headlines and yet he saw next to nothing in his perusal of it. He must have glanced at his watch at least a half dozen times and yet couldn't have told a single soul what the true time was. The only thing Dave Batista knew with indisputable certainty, was that it was lunchtime and that meant it was just about time for Teddy Long to be picking Nancy up from the airport.

The busy hotel café held no appeal for him and no shelter should Christy decide to make one last attempt to gain his attentions. He glanced over his shoulder toward the door again when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and was relieved when he saw that it was only Randy Orton making his way over to the table after a short hug and a swift peck on the cheek from his 'flavor of the week', as was affectionately referred to his chosen one night stand. The young woman departed after a last longing glance and headed off in another direction.

Dave folded the newspaper, knowing that he wouldn't have cared if the publication had detailed a national crisis at this point…he just simply wasn't interested in it. He tossed the newspaper lightly onto the table's surface as he watched Randy slough off the young lady as politely as he usually did with all the others—empty promises and all. It made Dave immensely glad that he had decided to give a solid relationship another try, if for no other reason than that the _'morning after'_ attempts at dialogue had always been uncomfortable for him. However difficult it might have been for Dave though, Randy Orton always seemed to handle that aspect of the 'one-night-stand' like a consummate professional. It never failed that he had the lady thinking that she'd left a lasting impression and would get a return call, even though in truth, he would likely remember her name no farther than the hotel room door.

"Cocktail Waitress?" Dave asked Randy as he sat down at the table appearing utterly relieved to be rid of the woman.

"Yeah." Randy answered on a sigh, flagging down the café waitress so as to place his order. "I was beginning to think that I was going to have to propose marriage and then suggest I go buy a tux just to get her to let me out of her sight."

"Ah…the pitfalls in the life of a gigolo." Dave said dryly. "Maybe if you'd raise your standards a little…date someone who won't have sex with you in the first twenty four hours and you wouldn't have to deal with these kinds of women." He joked.

"If I could find a _good_ one…" Randy inserted seriously. "Just one good one, _then_ maybe I wouldn't have to deal with these kinds of women."

Dave laughed, but not because he doubted Randy's sincerity and certainly not because he discounted the possibility of what he was saying altogether. "She's out there, Randy." Dave announced. "And you'll probably run into her when you least expect it."

"I'd rejoice to have that sort of blind luck." Randy joked.

"Luck has nothing to do with it, believe me." Dave declared. "But I can assure you, that you're not gonna find her through a series of one-night-stands."

"Maybe so, but still…" Randy began, "I would just like to find one…good one." His voice was low and distracted, even as his eyes locked on to the generous curve of their waitress's backside.

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Fiddling with the lap belt after the flight instructions had been given and then passing over a dozen pages of high-fashion in the _Devote_ magazine she had purchased in the airport, did nothing to help take Nancy's mind off of the days events. The sheer nervousness she felt should have been enough to consume her, but it had been the reality of the ticket-less itinerary confirmed just this morning and the soft verbal reassurance from Teddy Long that he would indeed pick her up at the airport that had her sweating bullets.

Nancy had no real notion of what she could expect on Smackdown. Likely, it would be much the same as RAW, only better…because Dave would be there. She hadn't slept much if at all the previous night…hadn't eaten this morning and now her hunger pangs, along with her all encompassing desire to see Dave Batista were very nearly pulling her out of her seat. The man in the seat next to her watched her fiddle and Nancy knew that her continuous fidgeting and restless moving were probably driving him crazy, for he frowned disapprovingly and turned his head to stare across the aisle.

Nancy had been hoping to visit a cell phone kiosk in the airport in order to get her shattered phone replaced, but time constraints had prevented doing so, and now she had the added stress of wondering if Dave had indeed tried to get in touch with her. Thanks to Max and his size 12, she had no way of knowing if he had…no way of checking her voicemail. Her mind was running in a few hundred different directions at the very least…her thought patterns were fractured and she was unable to hold onto anything other than the image of him, the remembered caresses and the desire to be held by him again. Nothing else really mattered, not the job…not the lack of assets or the new contracts on her part…not the stewardess who had tried for the third time to get her attention to take her drink order.

"Ma'am?" The gentleman beside her seemed less irritated than before, but still irritated nonetheless. "Do you want something to drink or not?"

"Oh, um…just water." Nancy responded feeling in her face the familiar heat that she knew would soon be followed by a red flush across her delicate cheekbones.

"Are you alright?" The man asked, his face was nearly a scowl.

Nancy nodded, unable to speak…her throat had gone dry, her heart was pounding and her body was suddenly filled with the intense longing to be off of the plane and wherever Dave was. But in order to do that…she had to endure the monotony of the flight and all of the other formalities that came with her transfer. But _after_…once everything else had been relegated to its individual insignificance, then she would seek him out and give him the apology she owed him…the apology she knew that he deserved…and then hopefully he would see fit to forgive her for being such an idiot.

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Christy tugged on the tight-fitting denim jeans and then proceeded to fight with the socks and tennis shoes that followed. Her frustration from last night had culminated into a near spastic temper-fit complete with the temptation to smash the face of the next person she came into contact with. Dave hadn't given her a second thought last evening when she had tried to extend herself to him once again. Not even just for a script rehearsal! It was getting harder and harder for her to justify all of the fruitless attempts to throw herself upon his grace…especially since it seemed he could care less. But Christy was a woman who firmly believed that the ends justified the means…and what _she_ wanted was Dave Batista…and whatever she had to do, whomever she had to hurt, however unhappy it made her or _him_ in the process…then those were the 'means' that would catapult her to the end result. And that was where it always worked itself out…In the end, right?

Christy was frightened slightly, because it seemed that WWE Creative was more interested in playing up a battle between her and Melina than they were in placing her as a possible love interest for Dave, as was Triple H's original pitch when he'd explained she would be going along with Stacy Keibler to SmackDown. And then, as if that weren't enough, through the veritable grapevine, she had heard rumors that Nancy had quit her job on Raw…which didn't mean much to Christy, except that possibly she had grown tired of the prospect of being stuck there with Triple H and had gone running. Yet still that tiny factoid had placed inside of her conscience, a niggling fear…a vision of Nancy…a veritable free agent showing up and bidding for a spot on _her_ team…not being able to keep track of her enemy's whereabouts was disconcerting.

The biggest irritant to her pride at this point was the fact that not only was Dave intent upon avoiding her, but he had gone so far as to hide his location the past couple of days from just about everyone. Not this morning, though…he had checked into the same hotel that all of the WWE Superstars as a collective whole had done. That confused her…why all of a sudden had he been taken with the impulse to set himself up in the very hotel that he knew Christy herself would be. Unless of course he was willing to make amends with her…possibly? Or was it more probable that he was testing the old adage of 'hiding out in the open?'

Whichever it was, she knew had to play it cool or he might run off again. She simply couldn't understand why it was that he hadn't gotten over this phase with Nancy by now, but none of that mattered, because the seamstress was ancient history and was certainly the last thing that Christy would have to contend with in her current pursuit of the Champion.

Christy whipped a light blue button-up over the top of her pink cami, unaware of the garish contrast between the clothing and her freshly dyed hair, and then tugged her gym bag up onto her shoulder. She was just certain that Dave would be heading out to the gym within minutes and if she had any luck at all, then she might just be able to catch a ride with Randy, and thus by a stroke of luck, be in the same company with Dave.

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Teddy Long pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose once more as he glanced toward the crowd of passengers who were currently deplaning. He knew that he would have no trouble recognizing her. Teddy remembered who she was, being as he had been present at the joint pay-per-view, where Nancy Adams had been Dave Batista's partner for the Proxy Championship match. And he had also been present backstage where more than a few of the wrestlers had been angry about the aftermath. There had been a rumor running around about Triple H's sports car having been mutilated in the parking garage, possibly by wrestlers, but nothing had been confirmed due to the lack of evidence.

Teddy had wondered why in hell someone with so little experience could have been allowed in the ring in the first place, but then considering that the unconscionable choice to put her there had been a direct result of Eric Bischoff's desire to wield his two-edged sword of power. A choice that had been approved by none other than Vince McMahon as a way to boost ratings for RAW and give their Marketable Champion a visible softer side to appeal to the fans. And now here Nancy was deplaning, a handbag tucked under her arm and a very small carry-on bag over one shoulder, apparently not the one that had been dislocated. He saw her smile when she recognized him and was suddenly aware of why Dave Batista held a fondness for her. She reminded him of Audrey Hepburn in her younger years.

"Nancy?" He extended his hand to her when she approached him and returned her smile. "Hope you don't have jet-lag." He joked. "Because I have an entire wardrobe that desperately needs your expertise."

She shook his outstretched hand…his was a firm no nonsense kind of grasp, one that told her, despite the warm smile and the twinkle in his eyes, Teddy Long was a man about business. "I'll give you my best." She grinned as he took hold of her carry-on.

"I know you will." He announced. "I have great faith in you…and besides I'm willing to bet that you end up being the very best trade in the entire draft lottery." His joke made her feel more at ease. He was nothing like Eric Bischoff and for that, she was exceedingly thankful.

"Somehow I doubt that…but I'll keep it between us…I would hate for anyone to get jealous." She fell into stride beside him as they headed for the escalator, bound for the luggage carousel.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy Smackdown…I think you'll find it's quite a bit less combustible than RAW has been in previous weeks." He spoke with only the slightest hint that he might have known exactly what had transpired behind the scenes of the opposing brand. "And I want to reassure you that I have no intention of exploiting your newfound wrestling skills for ratings."

Nancy nodded, "I appreciate that." She was about to heft her suitcase from the moving belt, when Teddy placed the carry-on bag back into her hands and lifted both of her suitcases up himself with an ease that contradicted his aged appearance. Somehow Nancy had expected him to be much frailer than he was, much less cordial, much less likeable…but that simply wasn't the case. She found she liked him at once. Teddy chattered on, making small talk as they found their way from the airport to the rental car which he quickly unlocked and then in true gentlemanly fashion, opened her door and allowed her to enter and then he placed her luggage in the trunk.

Nancy was nearly foaming at the mouth with a desire to ask how Dave was faring, but at the same time, she wasn't sure how much about her relationship with Dave, Teddy was even aware of. Her stomach, which had been a mass of twirling, rumbling knots all morning, was now grumbling loudly at her mistreatment in depriving it of breakfast. She would wait until she was back at the hotel and then maybe she could seek Dave out and the two of them could have a much needed talk, possibly even over room service.

"The hotel's not far." Teddy announced as if he had been reading her mind. He backed out of the space and straightened out the wheel as he pulled the car out and down the ramp away from the busy airport. "I suppose I should just cut right to the chase." Teddy began. "You are aware that Smackdown has had some very interesting new acquisitions as of late?"

_'Here he goes'_ her inner voice told her. Surely this would be the time when he told her that he would not approve of her socializing with Dave Batista on or off the clock. _'Stick with your own kind'_ he would tell her. "Yes Sir." Nancy responded, indicating that she was aware of the new acquisitions.

"One of those being Christy Hemme." Teddy glanced sidelong at her.

_'This could be even worse.'_ Her inner voice informed her. She was almost certain that he had been conversant of their feud and knowing what a valuable asset Christy was to the company, since she had been the winner of a quarter million dollar contract, surely Teddy's loyalty and responsibility would be to the Diva Search Winner and _her_ best interests. "Yes Sir." Again she responded respectfully, finding the old polite southern response was the only one that she could get past her lips.

"I just want you to know that I'm not completely in the dark about the things that occurred recently behind the curtain on RAW." His expression was serious, as was his voice. "And if you think that for one second I'm going to condone that type of behavior from a Diva on my watch, you're mistaken…I don't want you to be uncomfortable…so if she gives you any hassle whatsoever…then you come straight to me, you hear?"

Nancy would have been less surprised if he had turned from black to white right in front of her eyes. "Yes Sir." Was all she could say in her stunned state…she had been fully prepared for a lecture about how Divas were important and about how he wouldn't tolerate her starting a fight with Christy, but he hadn't…he had let her know up front that he was a manager who practiced an open door policy and that she could feel safe and secure in seeking his help if she needed it. He was a better General Manager than Eric Bischoff ever dreamed of being… where Eric had ulterior motives…Teddy Long had scruples.

"Now, I'll be honest with you about something else…" Teddy changed lanes onto the busy highway, merging easily with the noonday traffic. "I know absolutely nothing about the _Wardrobe Department_, except that we don't really even have one."

Nancy's head whipped around so forcefully it threatened to snap. "What?" She asked confused.

"Well, we have one, a room that we use for changing and a girl that mends costumes, but we lost our star seamstress when she had a baby, and now we have no _Wardrobe Department_ to speak of and upper management basically hasn't considered our demand for one a priority." Teddy explained.

"I see."

"I need you to bring the _Wardrobe Department_ around full circle, develop something new and exciting and for the love of God in Heaven, I need you to train that gal we got in there now, because I don't have the heart to fire her and she really acts like she wants to learn." Teddy laughed as he referred to the assistant who had been left holding the bag when his head seamstress had taken her leave.

"I can implement a design concept…rev things up a little, get our girl involved in it…I'd be happy to show her the ropes." Nancy said relieved that what he had said about not having a _Wardrobe Department_ was indeed not what he'd actually meant. She'd been suddenly struck with visions of being forced to sign a contract to wrestle after being falsely coerced to Smackdown…the image in her mind was almost comical.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about." Teddy snapped his fingers, smiling. "He told me you'd be the…" He bit his comment off and prepared to change the subject.

"Who told you, what?" She smiled hesitantly, furrowing a brow in curiosity.

"Human Resources…the fellow that gave me your name said…"

"Who was it that you spoke with?" Nancy asked inquisitively, sensing a bit of secrecy on Teddy's part.

"Oh…that fella…what's his name?" Teddy snapped his fingers again. "Oh I forgot…it'll come to me later…besides who cares what his name was anyhow? I know you'll be right for the job if anyone will be and I believe that you can teach that gal a thing or two so that she feels better about her position here too."

Nancy had the slightest inkling that Dave might have had something to do with telling Teddy that she was the right one for the job and the possibility of that thrilled her beyond measure, though she dare not ask for fear that she might be wrong.

"Now I'm not sure how it works for WWE staffers, but I assume that you have a per-diem that covers the cost of your hotel room?" His declaration in the form of a question snatched her from her reverie as he pulled into an empty space in front of the hotel.

"Oh, uh…yeah, that's right." She said smiling and pulling her seat belt off.

Teddy helped her as far as the front desk and then after instructing the clerk that she needed the bellboy's assistance, he gave her a quick hug, another hearty round of thanks and then told her where and when to meet for the bus to take her to the arena. After that he was gone, disappearing through the lobby restaurant's open door. The mere sight of the restaurant made her pulse quicken and she was reminded of the breakfast in San Antonio…Dave might be in there at this very moment...it wouldn't have been out of the ordinary…he had to eat sometime didn't he?

"Here you are Miss Adams." The clerk handed her the plastic keycard, sheathed in a crisp paper sleeve along with a list of the days activities hosted by the hotel and a map leading to her room, which she thankfully would not need being as the Bellboy was prepared to guide her there. "Thanks." Nancy said as she accepted the key and tucked her handbag back under her arm.

She glanced back toward the restaurant once more and then to her watch, deciding that since it was just past lunch, Dave would likely _not_ be in the restaurant, but rather he probably had gone to the gym already. Reluctantly she followed the bellboy toward the elevator, deciding that she could probably have a shower, then room service and make a game plan for her first night on Smackdown and for the reunion of a lifetime.

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"She's all yours." Teddy announced with a perceptive smile as he passed the table where Dave was seated, still nursing a glass of raspberry iced tea with sadly melted cubes and making another futile attempt to gain some knowledge from the tattered newspaper.

Dave knew what the comment meant and of whom Teddy was speaking and he folded the paper, pushing it aside, tossed a generous tip on the table and stood up shaking the man's hand. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome." Teddy said as he watched the tall wrestler turn to leave. "You sure Angie won't be mad about you using up her favor." He joked.

"If I didn't know better I'd think you already told her." Dave winked and walked out, with the sound of Teddy's soft laughter in his ear. He reached the door of the restaurant, intent on hiding for awhile longer so as not to be pawed at by Christy Hemme or any of the other Divas she had commissioned to keep an eye on him, when he spotted a cart with two familiar pieces of luggage being hauled by a bellboy onto the elevator where his eyes locked onto a silken mass of his favorite curls hanging down the back of a woman he damn well knew. She wasn't facing him, and he'd been just about to call out her name when the door shut fully, less than twenty feet from him.

"Dammit" he muttered, cursing his luck. She'd been right there within a stone's throw and he'd missed her. He would just have to speak with the desk clerk and ask her to leave a message on the phone if she wouldn't tell him Nancy's room number. A few feet from the front desk and his attention was roused by the swift rush of air as the front lobby doors parted, revealing Christy Hemme and her entourage of femme fatales. _'Damn it all to hell!'_ his inner voice screamed out in protest, while his brain and every other functioning molecule within him was frantically instructing him to hide, but she'd already seen him and she was headed straight for him like a hot bullet.

"Dave." Christy said breathlessly, stopping a few feet in front of him with Stacy Kiebler hot on her heels and Melina Perez, who was normally as anti-social with other women as anyone could be, bringing up the rear. "You missed your workout." She announced it as if it were breaking news and spoke as if she were chastising him in a playful and seductive manner.

"Nope…" He said, picking up a brochure if what…he wasn't even sure. "Just had other more pressing issues to deal with." There was no sense in telling her that Nancy was here, even though the temptation to see her head spin around backwards had him ready to clue her in. Besides, he had sworn Teddy to life-long secrecy about the favor and in turn Teddy had advised him that it would be best not to tell Christy about the transfer until he had a chance to talk to Christy himself and warn her to behave appropriately.

"Could we talk for a minute?" Christy asked, in front of the other women, no doubt in an attempt to put him on the spot so that he would not deny her the opportunity. It was apparent that once he said 'yes', she would not doubt excuse the other curious Divas and then latch onto him like a terminal virus. But Dave was no fool, the last thing he wanted was for Nancy to come back downstairs to eat or to visit the pool and be witness to an untimely conversation between himself and Christy.

"Nope." Dave smiled. "I think I'll make that trip to the gym, now that I know you've already been." The comment brought snickers forth from Melina, indicating that she found it funny that he had been hiding from Christy. He didn't stick around to hear Christy's response, instead he headed for the stairwell that led to the fifth floor where the sanctuary of his hotel room and his gym bag awaited.

He would have to wait until the show to talk with Nancy, likely she had things that she would have to prepare for her first night on Smackdown. But before he even reached the first landing, his conscience gently reminded him of something that _he_ had to do as well, and with a grin on his face, he turned back down the stairs and headed out the side lobby door bound for his car.

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Nancy knew the names of only two people on the bus…and only because they had been kind enough to introduce themselves when she approached the familiar black behemoth with WWE logos. Most of the others were more than a tad skeptical of who she was and why she had been driven to the hotel by Teddy Long himself. Between the dubious stares and unknown whispers, Nancy felt somewhat like she had been wearing a scarlet 'A'.

Her assistant hadn't been on the bus, which was odd and since Nancy knew next to no one, she decided against asking anybody else where the girl might be. It hadn't helped either that she had forgotten to ask Teddy what the young girl's name was. Well, she would be meeting her in less than twenty minutes so she wasn't overly worried. Her nerves were still a mess and her throat was still perpetually dry even though she had been drinking water all day. Out of reaction, she reached up again, fingers searching for the pendant that she had lost. Her fingers grazed only bare skin and her heart felt a twinge of sorrow for the want of it.

Today had been very trying, and nerve-wracking at the very least…she was anxious as she contemplated her new position on Smackdown, but the one thing that had her most fearful, was running smack into Dave Batista and being rebuffed. The thought of that was almost more than she could bear, but how would she know if she wasn't willing to put everything on the line and find out. The bus lurched and rocked as it made it's way up and around the ramp that led to the second story loading dock of the arena, and her heart made the same lurching, rocking motion at the knowledge that _he_ would soon be here, if he weren't inside somewhere already.

She folded her jacket over her arm and pulled her purse up closely in front of her as a measure of security. Without Max by her side, spouting his humor…hurling his incessant teases at her, Nancy was a bit intimidated, but there was no going back now. The bus had ground to a stop and all of the people who made up the behind the scenes team of Smackdown, slid out of their seats and began shuffling off of the bus, laughing with friends and filing into their respective cliques, leaving Nancy to enter the arena at the end of the line. She filed in behind them, looking left and right, half expecting to see him looking for her and half expecting to see him holding a picket sign protesting her arrival. Neither was the case, as the halls were nearly empty, save for the miles and miles of sound and video cable that had already been installed and prepared for the night's show.

Not quite ready to be bound by the seclusion of the Wardrobe Room, Nancy traversed the halls until she found the door that led out into the arena just to the left of the entrance ramp. The heavy door creaked as she pressed the bar and it swung inward, giving her a glimpse of the newly erected ring, which was empty, along with the three tiers of seating, also empty…the sound of her heels on the concrete echoed throughout the arena making her feel hollow, alone. She wished _he_ might have been in here, running the ropes or talking with a producer, something…anything, just so that she could see him.

The lights came on with a resounding series of loud pops and Nancy jumped, placing her hand over her chest and then laughing softly, when she realized that they were simply testing them for the show and that the show hadn't somehow started. Brought back from her thoughts, she decided that now might be a great time to find her new assistant and a cup of strong black coffee.

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Christy, spun around the wall that separated the dressing area from the showers and poked her head between a row of lockers trying to get a better ear for the information that she thought she might have just heard.

"What did you just say?" She asked, with her heart pounding fiercely in fear and barely checked anger, and her lips pursed into a thin line.

"I swear I think I just saw Nancy Adams in the green room." Stacy buckled the thin strap of her high-heel and then began to dig through her purse for her lotion.

"You're bullshitting me." Christy announced, crooking her lip and pushing her tongue under her front teeth.

Stacy shook her head as she swabbed a bead of lotion down one leg. "I really swear, I think it's her."

"Hmm." Christy huffed softly and edged back around the wall, shoving the door of the women's locker room open. She stepped out into the hall looking left and right, and then proceeded toward the green room in haste, red tresses flying behind her as she went.

"It can't be her." Christy muttered angrily, as she placed a palm on the green room door to open it. It swung inward with little effort, revealing only the smug expression of Randy Orton and two caterers who were currently refilling the coffee tankards. She glanced up at Randy who grinned and then shook his head, walking past her with a slight snort, indicating to her that he knew something she herself might have wanted to know. Was Nancy really somewhere in the arena? Had Randy seen her and was that why he was smiling?

She turned and exited the green room behind him, intent on asking if he'd seen her.

"Randy?" Christy asked, in her sugary sweet voice.

"Hmmm?" He turned to see what she wanted, secretly amused. Dave was his good friend and he knew exactly why the red-haired Diva had come flying into the green room with a murderous glare etched into the features of her face.

"Was there a girl in here…just a minute ago?" She began, but was cut off.

"There've been a few girls in here in the past little while, Christy." His eyes held a hint of sarcasm though his voice was steady, oily…holding no hint of malice, only shrouded amusement.

"Curly hair, green eyes…usually has a cup of _very_ hot coffee in her hand." She nearly gritted her teeth on the last comment.

"Hmmm…" Randy mixed his protein drink in a shaker cup and glanced at the ceiling, as if he were contemplating one of the mysteries of the universe. "You know…I can't say that I remember." He grinned knowingly…never telling Christy that there had indeed been a curly haired green eyed woman in the green room…who had left just as quickly as she came once finding that the coffee tankards hadn't been filled yet. He knew exactly who she was too, for she had fixed his clothing several times on RAW but had never fallen at his feet any of the times he'd tried to charm her into a possible one night stand. And because of his discussion with Dave, he was well aware of Christy's infatuation with the Champion and so he was on the verge of laughing his ass off at the prospect of Christy chasing down a ghost.

"Well…thanks for your help." Christy said and then chewing her lip, she glanced again around the expanse of the room.

"No problem." Randy said smiling once again as she passed him and made her way down the hall to meet up with Heidenreich and Road Warrior Animal for her vignette. She was in for a hell of a surprise and Randy found himself wishing that he could be a fly on the wall for that reunion.

Christy stomped down the corridor prepared to return to the women's locker room and ream Stacy for fibbing to her, when she had the slightest impulse to venture into the Wardrobe room just to confirm that Stacy had in fact been working her over. She darted down the hallway to the left of the green room and leaned cautiously against the door, listening for any sound. None came, and so she twisted the knob slowly with one hand while she pressed her weight gently against the door with the other hand. It opened, revealing no one…no suitcases or handbags that would identify Nancy. Relief flooded through her, when she realized that Stacy had indeed been tricking her…there was no reason for Nancy to have even come here and Stacy was well informed of how much she hated the seamstress…likely she had done it just to rile Christy up before the match…or perhaps it had been Melina's idea. She also was famous for ribbing new Divas, sometimes even to the point of hazing and so Christy knew she ought to be glad that the little joke hadn't turned out to be something bigger.

She flounced back into the women's locker room to snatch up her bandana and then back out into the hall to seek out LOD for her vignette. Happier now, having assured herself that she was still the only eligible lady on Smackdown vying for Dave's attentions, Christy pasted a million kilowatt smile on her face and whipped around the corner. She linked up with Heidenreich and Animal and just as the camera was cued and the trio prepared to make their jaunt to the ring, her eyes locked onto the slender frame of her nemesis, a magazine tucked under her arm, walking confidently down the hallway headed for the wardrobe room. Nancy suddenly lifted her gaze as if she sensed she was being watched, rewarded Christy and the two hulking wrestlers with a genuine smile and then she continued on her way.

Floored, dumbstruck and suddenly shell-shocked, Christy wanted nothing more than to ditch her vignette and go find out what in the hell was going on, but despite her panic, she was being ushered against her will back toward LOD, along with a not so kind reminder from the producer that they had ten seconds to go live. No matter how badly Christy might want to confront the seamstress, she had no choice but to finish her vignette and her valet duties. It was almost a certainty that Nancy and Dave would run into one another while Christy was out in the ring and now she was forced to hide her dread behind a faux smile contrived for the cameras.

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Nancy had known that she was bound to run into Christy sooner or later. She had just been hoping that it would have been later rather that sooner, but instead of letting the imminent confrontation put her on edge, she had smiled as if the two had been old friends and headed for the wardrobe room. She'd had a chance to say hello to Randy Orton once again, who assured her that he would surely be needing her help with repairs in the near future…she suspected he was just being flirtatious. And now she was hoping to connect with the elusive assistant whom she had not yet met and was eagerly looking forward to knowing. It was also apparent that Dave was engaged in some duty that had kept him out of the open, for in her short duration in the hallways and green room, she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him.

Nancy stepped inside the wardrobe room and glanced at the many supplies, most of which had not even been completely unloaded, but to her relief, the sewing machines were relatively new…giving her the hope that she wouldn't sustain too many injuries in her new job. She set out to unload some of the very disorganized caddies from which she suspected she might find the most important accoutrements, when she heard a grunt and a shuffling noise from behind her. A woman of average height was waddling into the wardrobe room, her face and torso hidden behind a pile of _'Diva clothing repairs'_ and other unidentifiable clothing items. Because her entire upper body was disguised by the grandiose pile of clothing Nancy could only assume that it was a woman, because _she_ was wearing a skirt…a long, brown woolen skirt…complete with brown leather sandals and white athletic socks.

She watched as the woman shuffled inside with the pile of clothing, muttering something that Nancy could not understand and then finally the front of the woman's body connected with the edge of a table and she accepted the impact as a signal to dump her heavy load on top of it. The mountain of clothing toppled from her arms to reveal a flustered, red-faced, heavy breathing young woman who must surely be her long lost assistant. The woman had a heart shaped face hidden behind oversized transparent pink plastic frames with lenses of average thickness, a smattering a freckles trailed across her face from one cheekbone to the other, gracing her nose with color, and her lips, plump and shaped like a bow were nearly bright red without the aid of any cosmetic. Nancy was glad to notice that she wasn't the only one with the dastardly curls…her assistant had them also, the wedge shaped haircut, underneath a clip, tamed only a small section of the hair from one ear to the next. The rest of it stood up and out in rebellious, wiry insolence.

The woman looked up to behold Nancy, with a smile and Nancy liked the way her nose crinkled up when she did so. "Hi, are you?" The young woman didn't finish the question, but instead gave a hopeful glance as she held out her hand.

"I'm Nancy…are you, my assistant?" Nancy was almost as timid as the woman in front of her.

"Oh, thank God…" The woman pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, but they slid down again immediately. "I thought that you were a new Diva or something with another repair." Nancy laughed softly when she saw the woman sigh in relief. "I'm Lizzie…you know, like…Lizzie." The woman stumbled awkwardly through her introduction.

"I'm glad to meet you." Nancy shook Lizzie's hand.

"I'm really relieved you came…I know half of these Divas just hate me…and I don't know nearly enough about this aspect of the job to keep them happy." Lizzie admitted, almost despondently. "I think that I wasn't very well trained, but I'm a fast learner and I can pick up whatever you want to teach me." She stammered. "I mean you don't have to teach me I guess, I know you don't really have the time or whatever, Teddy says that you do stuff for Stephanie McMahon and all…I've never met her, never even seen her, is she nice?"

"Very." Nancy responded smiling…she would be hard pressed not to like Lizzie…she was eager and humble all at the same time…the two perfect attributes for learning how to be the leader of the pack…Lizzie would make a good boss one day. "I'll teach you everything I can, if you like and maybe in the meantime we can have some fun with these Divas, whaddya say?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, have fun with the Divas?" Lizzie looked confused and intimidated.

"First thing you need to learn Lizzie, is that _they_ are supposed to come to _you_ with their repairs." Nancy told her. "What time did you get to the arena tonight?"

"I was here at three…the girls handed me some stuff at the hotel and I took the hotel shuttle up here to try and get set up…then I just came from the women's locker room and Melina and Christy and Stacy gave me some more clothing to be ironed." Lizzie admitted hesitantly.

"So then these are not repairs? Just ironing?" Nancy asked, tamping down her ire at the Divas who were obviously taking advantage of the young woman. No wonder she hadn't had time to learn the things required of her…she was busy doing someone's incidental duties instead of her own! "Lizzie, let them know that the WWE pays them enough money for them to afford to send their clothing to the cleaners if they're too lazy to use the iron in their hotel room and the next time you're on your way to _Wardrobe_ and they try to hand you something, let them know they have two legs and can walk it down here as easily as you can."

The look on Lizzie's face was priceless. "I don't know if I could stand up to them that way…I mean they all know how to wrestle and stuff." Evidently she hadn't yet grasped the concept that just because Divas could wrestle didn't mean they were tough, with maybe the exception of Victoria.

"Trust me…if you don't stand up for yourself you'll end up in that ring anyway." Nancy joked, laughing and remembering her own fear of defending herself.

"What?" Lizzie inquired, her face a mass of perplexity.

"It's a long story." Nancy said…and then she piled all of the ironing into a plastic garbage bag, not bothering to separate it into the proper Diva's pile, and tossed the lumpy bag just outside the door of _Wardrobe_.

Lizzie began to chatter on and tell Nancy about her lack of experience, as she began to assemble the rolling spool stand…and in true clumsy fashion, Lizzie dropped the caddy drawer that had once neatly housed several hundred spools of thread. A veritable rainbow of polyester thread spools spun and rolled, bounced and then came to rest within a five foot radius of the young woman, who looked on in horror at her new boss, who must surely think that she was insane.

Nancy was instantly reminded of Max…she missed him…and truly, this was something he might have done himself. She couldn't help laughing a little at the unintended homage to her former partner. "I think you and I are gonna end up being good friends." She told Lizzie and then she patted the woman on the shoulder. "You know what, Lizzie?" She began, noting the relief on her face. "I tried to get some coffee about ten minutes ago and it wasn't ready yet…do you like coffee?"

"Oh I love coffee." Lizzie admitted, shoving the glasses back up again. "But I made this huge mess with the thread…" She pointed to the floor on the verge of tears.

"Tell you what…" Nancy said in an attempt to get Lizzie's mind off of her nervousness. "I have a really bad history of accidents where hot beverages are concerned…would you be opposed to getting some coffee for both of us?"

Lizzie nodded eagerly. "Oh I, I could do that." And after confirming that Nancy took hers black, she swept out of the room, clipping her shoulder on the doorframe as she went.

Nancy laughed as she swept her gaze around to the hundreds of spools on the floor. God certainly had a sense of humor…he had known she needed someone like Lizzie to help make her transition easier and for Pete's sake, the girl was enough like Max already that Nancy felt at home in just her first few minutes on Smackdown. She knelt and began to pick up the spools one by one, arranging them by color back into the caddy.

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His one scheduled appearance for the night was finished and he was thankful that he hadn't been scheduled for a match. Dave Batista tucked his bags into the trunk of his rental car and then headed back inside to find her. His stomach was in knots and a part of him felt like vomiting might help relieve some of the tension, but at the very least, the fact that she was here on Smackdown, gave him a boost of hope. Nancy hadn't _had_ to come at all…she could have just as easily stayed on RAW, and if she truly didn't want to have anything to do with him she wouldn't have accepted a job in a place where she knew she would run into him on a nightly basis. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

He rounded the corner and noted the monitor on which he found Christy still at ringside…and he was grateful for that, at least he could speak with Nancy without her interference. He passed the monitor and then tossed a small nod to Randy who gave him a subtle thumbs up sign and a slight nod in the direction of the wardrobe room. Dave found that his throat had gone dry and the muscles in his neck suddenly felt very tense. His shaking hand made contact with the knob…he wouldn't knock…he opened the door quietly as he always had in the past. And as always she didn't notice his entry.

Dave watched her, stooped down on the floor picking up scattered spools of thread and his breath caught in his chest. He had missed her, but he hadn't realized how much until that moment. He could see the red marks where the Doctor's instrumentation had pierced her delicate skin. They would become tiny scars, but he knew she wasn't vain enough to be bothered by it…she'd had far deeper scars, ragged emotional scars not visible to man and had done just fine in the healing. She hummed as her slender hands grasped each item, tucking it with care into the plastic caddy drawer balanced on her thighs. Her delicate, dove grey skirt brushed against the floor, barely covering the heels…the black ones that she'd thrown at the bus. Everything about her…everything _on_ her sparked a memory that he loved, a memory that reminded him why he needed her.

Those blessed beautiful curls cascading down her back and over one shoulder, flirting with the skin of her arms…the skin that he knew was softer than silk beneath his fingers…they caught his attention when the light glittered off of the chestnut strands and his hands itched to touch her. He swallowed a lump in his throat while watching her from behind, always immersed in her duties, always good at what she had chosen to do. He spoke her name without realizing it and she turned, with a start, nearly upsetting the drawer of spools that she had just been trying to organize. Her jade eyes widened with surprise? Relief? Uncertainty? And now was the moment…the threshold that determined where they went from here, or whether they ended it completely.

Nancy couldn't have imagined that it would feel so good to see him after only a week of not laying eyes on him and she certainly couldn't have imagined how fiercely her heart would be pounding, how difficult it would be to even draw a breath. The sound of her name on his lips had been like a soft touch…and the way he looked at her with a mixture of hope and insecurity made her want to reach out to him. She smiled, still holding the drawer in her arms and finding her voice, she spoke.

"You had something to do with the job offer…" She stated it with gratitude, not a question…but a confirmation.

Dave felt relief wash over him when he sensed that she wasn't angry. "I had reasons…" He had told her the same thing when he'd rescued her from a match long ago. "Good ones." His voice was deep and steady.

She nodded, as he took another step closer to her. She was swept up again by the invisible whirlwind that was her attraction for him. The heat that she could feel, but couldn't see, the intoxicating feeling of being paralyzed by his gaze…she loved every second of the anticipation as he closed in on her.

"Do you wanna hear them?" He asked softly.

Nancy couldn't for the life of her, put down the caddy, she held onto it with such force her arms began to ache. "Your reasons?" She repeated softly, the same as she had long ago, but instead of brushing him off, she nodded. "Yes." She saw the measure of contentment in his glittering mahogany eyes, something that told her he was glad she wanted to know.

Dave came another step closer, his brow pleating and just inches away from her he let his hand snake out to touch her face…one finger running down the length of her nose to graze her lips. He then took the caddy drawer from her grasp and placed it on the table beside her…and reached into his pocket, pulling out her diamond. He saw the recognition in her eyes as it twirled on the chain, catching the light, glittering wildly and he saw too, her gratitude as tears formed on her lashes but refused to fall.

"You lost this on my porch." He said biting his lower lip. "The chain must've broken when you were putting the key back though the mail slot." His voice was soft and his statement non accusatory as he held the necklace up and unfastened the clasp of the new chain. "The new chain's much stronger…" He said as she turned and held her hair out of the way. "The jeweler said it shouldn't break unless you're rough with it."

"Thank you." She whispered, feeling the heat of his body on her back, his capable hand grazing the flesh of her neck as he fastened the clasp. And though the diamond meant a lot to her…it didn't nearly compare to the feel of him so near to her.

"This wasn't the kind of diamond I'd imagined putting on you." He whispered, after he finished. "And not the time or the place I'd imagined." Before she could turn around to face him or to respond, he wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and his right arm around her stomach. He pulled her body against his, leaning in to relish the feel of her, the smell of her, before he spoke "I only wanted to make sure you were safe…This wasn't how things were supposed to go." He felt her lean back against him and couldn't have described the feeling that came over him when she didn't pull away from him, as he tightened his embrace. "I may have gone about it the wrong way and I'm sorry for that, but I won't apologize for wanting to protect you." He nuzzled her ear, almost overwhelmed by the moment. "I'm not sorry that I'm in love with you."

Nancy held on to his arm as it banded across her chest, and leaned into him closing her eyes…the reality of almost losing him threatened to make her legs buckle. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you." She told him, finally turning slowly around in his embrace. "You knew what would happen…and you were right." Nancy admitted, sliding her hands beneath his suit-coat to rest them on his waist. "I was just scared."

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead and then he told her. "All of that other stuff doesn't matter, if you love me." He let his lips trail down the side of her face, even as his hands curved around her back and upward to her shoulders. She nodded and turned her face slightly, touching his lips with her own. He had craved her kiss even before he had known she was gone, more so even while she was away…and now with her lips on his, he could only react, cupping her face with his hands and possessing her mouth, gently, firmly until he knew he had stolen her breath…he broke free from her kiss, touching his forehead to hers for a long, silent moment.

She let her lonely hands run the length of his broad back, eyes closed…taking in the feel of him and praying that this was the second chance she had hoped for.

"I was going to quit my job, the night that Teddy called me." Nancy admitted as his lips kissed a path down the side of her face finding her neck. "I still have the resignation in my purse."

He kissed the tender flesh of her shoulder…and then spoke against her skin. "What would you have done _then_?" His voice was gentle, unfocused.

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck as he buried his face into her hair, breathing deeply. "I was going to track you down and beg you to take me back."

He felt her soft laugh rumble beneath his lips, which were now in the hollow of her throat a hairsbreadth from the diamond and it thrilled him to hear that she'd had the same idea he had…that she had been willing to give everything up the way he had. "And I would have…" He admitted, circling her waist with his hands.

"And now?" She asked softly as his lips ventured back up the length of her neck to her chin. "Would you take me back now?"

"Will you stay?" He asked as he nibbled her jaw-line, curving his hand around the back of her neck. "And trust me?"

She nodded, touching her lips to his…knowing that the words were just as important to him as her actions at that moment, she whispered "I'll stay…I trust you."

He began to speak low against her ear, and remind her of the fact that she hadn't called him back the morning after she'd left and therefore was still subject to endure all of the delicious punishments he had promised on his voicemail and as his lips and hands reacquainted themselves with the landscape of her skin, he then began to recite in great detail exactly what was awaiting her at the hotel once the show was over.

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Stephanie stalked down the corridor with purpose, past the sound crew and Funaki _Number 1 Announcer_, gifting him with a wave and taking note of the surprised expressions from staffers and wrestlers who, no doubt were wondering why in the hell she was in the arena for a Smackdown taping. She had flown to the show for several reasons, the first being, that she was damn nosey and wanted to see how things were running, another was that she also had a few written ideas for the fashion line to hand deliver to Nancy since she just happened to be in the neighborhood, and lastly, she had a transfer slip, an order she had conceived of after finding out a few details about the past month's events…a transfer to send Christy Hemme to OVW. Better to remove the strife causing, common denominator before she caused more trouble.

She strode toward the catwalk and soon, Christy was descending the ramp with the same degree of determination that Stephanie herself had entered the arena with. Her expression was clearly one of anger and panic as if she were headed for a fight, until she lifted her eyes meeting with Stephanie's. Christy's air quickly changed to reveal her shock and Stephanie couldn't deny that she detected fear behind those eyes as she walked forward, stopping a few feet from the Diva not bothering to hide her snide smile and a soft laugh.

"Stephanie" Christy was clearly confused, intimidated.

"I felt it was important that I brought this to you in person." Stephanie crooked her upper lip and snapped the envelope out in front of her. "Pack your bags…You're required at OVW for training first thing Thursday morning."

Christy's head bobbed from the envelope back up to Stephanie's face, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief. "Now? But I thought…I-I just got drafted to Smackdown…and LOD…I…" She couldn't form an intelligible sentence in the midst of her exasperation, and suddenly it became clear to her that she wouldn't be in a line for Dave Batista anymore. If she was at OVW and Nancy was here, a mere hop, skip and jump away from him, then it was over…her chance for Dave…her hard work…her conspiracy with Triple H…all of it. "Stephanie—"

The fierce glare of the _Billion Dollar Princess_ stole the comment from Christy's mouth. "You can either go there and train or you can pack your shit and take a bus back to Temecula, it makes no difference to me."

"How long will I be there?" Christy asked dejectedly, seeing the life she'd built in her mind's eye, crumbling right before her.

"An undetermined amount of time…however long it takes for you to learn what you need to learn…is there a problem with that?"

"No." Christy could say little more under the intense scrutiny of Stephanie McMahon, and she held the envelope tightly in her hands as she turned and walked away, heading for the women's locker room.

Now _that_ was a bright spot in Stephanie's McMahon's night! She had always enjoyed wielding her power especially when she was actually doing it for the benefit of another person. And she was definitely not blind to what Christy had been doing where Dave Batista was concerned…she also had a fair amount of knowledge regarding her husband's recent involvement with Christy and his hands on the wheel of a plot to circumvent Stephanie. The details, though slightly jaded had been enough to whet Stephanie's appetite for a battle and her husband may not know it yet, but they were shortly about to cross swords and he wasn't going to like being relegated to the role of a McMahon puppet.

Stephanie turned the knob of the _Wardrobe_ door and poked her head around to peek inside. A smile crossed her face when she spotted the Champion and her new business partner standing toe to toe in the middle of the room whispering to one another in an embrace that clearlytold her love still existed, even if not in her own marriage. She didn't enter, but she saw Dave Batista raise his eye to regard her and then he lifted one hand behind Nancy's back in a silent plea for more time. Stephanie nodded and mouthed the words. _"Take your time."_ Then she gently pressed the lock inward on the knob and closed the door soundlessly.

Quickly she snatched a black marker and a roll of duct tape from the tool belt of a soundman and turned the manila folder over, pulling the contents out and tucking the papers under her arm. Stephanie then scribbled a message on the envelope, tore a strip of duct tape off of the roll and tacked it to the door under the wardrobe sign. She turned to give the soundman back his items and nearly bumped into a very Plain Jane woman holding two cups of coffee, intent on entering the _Wardrobe_ room.

"Excuse me…sorry." Lizzie smiled and spoke kindly wishing to pass, balancing the cups in her hands.

"You can't go in there." Stephanie told her, standing in front of the door.

"But, I-I work in there…" Lizzie stammered, her eyes widening in fear as she regarded what she was certain was a new Diva intent on hassling her. "My-my new boss is in there…"

"Trust me she won't care, besides I outrank her." Stephanie announced with a smile. The woman must not know who she was. "Whaddya have there?" Stephanie leaned over the cups to see.

"Oh, um…just coffee." Lizzie looked worried, glancing at the door with trepidation, and then she caught sight of the sign and the signature beneath the message. A look of utter shock lit her expression, when she suddenly realized exactly who was standing in front of her.

"Great…just how I like it." Stephanie blurted as she reached out without asking and took from the girl's hand, the cup of coffee that had been filled with creamer…and meant for Lizzie. "Have I ever told you the story about how your new boss came to be a part of Smackdown?" Stephanie asked knowing that she hadn't, stifling Lizzie's attempt to protest the thievery of her coffee. "Have I ever even spoken to you before, for that matter?" Stephanie looked at the woman with curiosity.

"No Ma'am…" Lizzie said looking into the styrofoam cup at the hot black coffee, wondering if she had the stomach to drink the brew without creamer.

"Well then let's go take a walk and I'll tell you one of the greatest love stories you've ever heard…it's pretty amazing really and it all started on RAW, believe it or not…and all because of two very hot cups of coffee, imagine that…" Stephanie crooked one arm over the woman's shoulder and with more than just gentle force, she began to walk Lizzie away from Wardrobe, where an awkward paper sign hung from the door warning others away with the announcement _'Wardrobe Closed…will reopen next house show – by order of Stephanie McMahon'_

TO BE CONTINUED…

Please look for the sequel UNCOMMON BOND, due out now. Thank you for your reviews and I sincerely look forward to hearing from you as I post the sequel. This is a chance for Randy Orton fans to feed their fantasy appetite as well so don't miss it!


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